En Ma Fin
by cassandraHawkeyechekov
Summary: The year is 1890, and war is brewing on the horizon. None of the European countries can cooperate long enough to combat the growing danger, yet they can't do it alone. Join Sky Pirate captain Arthur Kirkland as he teams up with Francis Bonnefoy, Antonio Carreida, and Gilbert Beilschmidt and their crews to save the day! Steampunk AU true summary inside; rated M to be safe
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Hello there everyone! If you're reading this, then I'd assume that you've decided to check out my humble little story! For that, I'd like to say thank you:) Now, time for the important stuff.**

**I realise that the summary given for this story kind of stinks, so I'll type up a better one here, just so that everyone knows what they're actually getting into.**

_**The year is 1890, and war with the eastern nations is on the horizon, lead by the Russian Federation and the Eastern Republic. No single European nation has a strong enough military force, and especially not a strong enough Air Force, to combat the growing threat, yet none of them can cooperate long enough to present an allied front. Amidst this chaos emerges four sky pirate captains and their crews who may just end up saving the day: English gentleman Arthur Mackenzie-Kirkland, Spanish heartbreaker Antonio Carriedo, French playboy Francis Bonnefoy, and Prussian warmonger Gilbert Beilschmidt, along with two very vocal Italian girls, an American sharpshooter in a miniskirt lightyears ahead of her time, and a mysterious silver-eyed Scotswoman. What will this wild steampunk AU adventure bring?**_

* * *

**December 24****th****, 1885**

The cemetery was empty, save for five small figures huddled together in an attempt to ward off the chilly December air, and the groundskeeper a short distance away. They stood around a white marble headstone, not moving, not speaking.

"Excuse me, children, but the gates are closing soon. You'd best scurry back home before the storm hits," the groundskeeper said, looking at the group with warm eyes. The tallest, a slight figure in a deep blue cloak with white piping, turned to the man, face in shadow, but surrounded by an aura of gloom.

"Just five more minutes, then we'll be gone," it said with a strongly accented, but definitely feminine voice.

"Five minutes, no more, no less. Wouldn't want you five to be caught in the blizzard."

"Thank you, sir," the smallest figure said, a teenage boy with scraggly blond hair and emerald green eyes.

The groundskeeper left them, watching as each cloaked figure, four with hoods down, one with hood up, stepped forward and placed a hand on the headstone for a moment, mouths moving quietly, then step back once they'd said their share. Finally, the tallest figure took her turn, only to fall to her knees and bury her hidden face in a pair of pale, willowy hands, sobs racking her body. The other four immediately wrapped their arms around her until she stood up and turned her back on the grave.

"Ta gey muckle, sur. We'll leave now. Take care of Ali for us, alright?" the hooded figure said as they walked past the groundskeeper. The old man simply nodded and smiled at the group, his gaze following them as they left the cemetery and disappeared into the silent dark of the London streets, the only evidence of their existence being the five sets of footprints left in the snow.

He walked over to the headstone, which, in beautiful Celtic script, read:

Alistair James Kirkland-Mackenzie

30th November, 1867—15th December, 1885

Beloved Son, Student, Airman, and Brother

"En Ma Fin Est Mon Commencement"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Alistair. May you rest in peace, my boy," he whispered as snow began to fall.

* * *

"Well, this is a lovely Christmas Eve, isn't it, Em?" Arthur, the youngest of the five at fifteen, said with a sheepish laugh in his voice. Of all of them, he was the only true Englishman, and as such, was the only one of them to have developed an English accent.

"Wait, 'tis Christmas Eve? Oi tart it wus de twenty-third!" Sean, one of the sixteen-year old twins, exclaimed. He and his brother Colin, having been sent off to school in Ireland at the tender age of four, both spoke with the sing-songy accent of the Emerald Isle.

"T'be sure 'tis Christmas Eve, yer eejit! Why else wud Emma be lettin' us go near de ale?" Colin yelled just as loudly, slapping his twin upside the head.

"Behave, you two. Go back to playing your card game," seventeen-year old Dylan commanded in his soft, Welsh accent. He had only recently returned from school in Cardiff, where, like the twins, he had been every school term since he was four.

"Will all of you just calm down? I'm trying to make dinner here and I'd rather not slice myself with this knife because you four can't shut up!" Embra, the oldest and only female, yelled. If the frustrated tone of her voice hadn't already scared her brothers shitless, the roughness of her Scottish accent most certainly did. She had recently finished school up in Edinburgh the year previous, and now worked full time as a seamstress, not because of any lack of money, but simply because she needed something to do with herself while her brothers were off at their respective schools.

The boys saw the knife in her hand glint wickedly in the light of the stove fire, and they immediately went silent.

"Ta gey," she muttered, returning to the potatoes she'd been slicing.

"Hey, Arthur, have you opened that letter from the Royal Air Force Academy yet?" Dylan asked politely.

Everyone except Iona looked at Arthur expectantly, making the blond sink down in his chair nervously.

"Well, erm, eh, no, I haven't had the chance to since…" he let his sentence trail off, not wanting to open **that** can of worms on Christmas Eve of all nights.

"Well, den, open it!" Colin said, clapping his younger brother on the back. Iona continued with her slicing, almost as if she wasn't listening.

Sean pulled something out of his trouser pocket, a white envelope with the Royal Air Force seal on it.

"That's my letter, you git!" Arthur yelled angrily.

"Oi foun' it lyin' on yisser bedside table. Shouldn't leave such valuable things raun wha someone can take dem," Sean taunted, waving the envelope in Arthur's face. The blond snatched it from his red-headed brother and grabbed a letter opener from a nearby desk.

He read the letter quietly to himself, shielding it from the view of his siblings.

"Well, tell us what it says," Dylan smiled. Arthur cleared his throat.

"Dear Mr. Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland,

It is with greatest pleasure that we extend to you an invitation to begin matriculation at the Royal Air Force Academy immediately following the end of the holiday season, on the Tenth of January in the year of our Lord, Eighteen Hundred and Eighty-Five at precisely 05:00 in the morning. You will receive your uniform and all other necessary resources at this point. On behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, and the Royal Air Force, we welcome you into the ranks of the military of the British Empire.

Sincerely,

Air Chief Marshal David M. Whitecastle"

There was a moment of stunned silence, filled only by the sound of Iona's knife slicing carrots, before the three other boys began whooping and hollering, mussing their youngest brother's hair and congratulating him.

"I can't believe it! I'm going to be a Royal Airman! Embra, did you hear that? They accepted me! I'll have my own ship and crew and I'll be the hero of the British Empire and oh heavens, this is so exciting!" Arthur exclaimed, waving the letter in the air.

"T'be sure they accepted yer! Don't be ridiculous! Wi' a name loike Mackenzie-Kirklan', who wouldn't want yer?" Sean yelled, wanting to be heard over the others.

"Really, they'd 'av ter be complete dolts ter reject yer!" Colin added.

"This is the greatest Christmas ever, and it isn't even yet Christmas!" Arthur proclaimed.

"Knew they'd let you in. You're following in Dad and Alistair's footsteps, Artie. Ali would be proud, don't you think, Em? Isn't this great? We'll have another airman in the family," Dylan said without thinking.

Suddenly, Iona hissed sharply, and her knife clattered to the floor, followed by footsteps running quickly up the stairs and a door slamming at the other end of the house. Leading from her spot at the cutting board to the stairs and up to the top floor was a trail of blood.

The boys finished making the dinner preparations in silence after that, eating a hearty dinner of roast beef accompanied by vegetable stew and various alcohols. Once everyone had finished, the table was cleared, the kitchen cleaned, the lights turned off and the fires put out, and the four teenagers drifted off to bed in solemn pensiveness.

* * *

**December 25****th****, 1885**

Arthur was the first to come down the next morning, excited by the thought of presents on Christmas morning. The lower level was almost unchanged from the night before, save the mounds of presents underneath their Christmas tree. The blond haired young man set about starting a fire in the fireplace before running back upstairs to go and wake his siblings. He nearly suffocated Sean by sitting on top of him until the other woke up, and he earned a long string of Welsh curse words from Dylan when he shook the flaxen-haired youth within an inch of his life. With Colin, Arthur simply whispered that there would be bacon involved if he got his ass out of bed. A chill washed over Arthur as he walked past Alistair's room. Alistair…the thought of his oldest brother sobered the teen a little. This was their first Christmas without the rough and tumble Scot, the first of many incomplete Christmases to come. By this point, Arthur's hyperactivity had worn off enough that he had the sense to simply knock on Iona's door, remembering the one Christmas that he'd made the mistake of barging in on his older sister and having to face both her and Alistair's wrath, Iona because he'd broken her favourite ceramic cross in the process, and Alistair because the sound of his twin's high-pitched screaming in Scots Gaelic had woken the grumpy older redhead prematurely.

There was no response to Arthur's knock on the door, so he tried again. Still no answer.

"Embra? Are you in there? Come on, everybody's awake! It's time to open presents!" Arthur said. He pressed his ear to the door, but heard no movement inside. Finally, he tried the door handle and found it unlocked, a rare occurrence for an eighteen-year old Scotswoman with all-male siblings. Arthur warily opened the door and peered inside Iona's spacious corner room. The lights were on, the drawers open and empty, and the closet much the same. Even the bedclothes were missing. The only personal touch that remained was the picture on the bedside table, taken only a year ago when Iona and Alistair had graduated from secondary school and the Royal Air Force Academy respectively, back when they were all still a family, six siblings and two smiling parents. Sitting next to the picture, however, was a folded piece of paper. A sense of dread settled in Arthur's stomach. He had an idea of what the note said, and he was sure that neither he nor his other three siblings were going to like it.


	2. Chapter 2: Merry Men

**Good day there, lovely people! After much hard work, I present Chapter 2! This is really just a sort of important filler chapter wherein I introduce all four captains, their first mates, and any interesting add-ons to the crews( cough cough the Vargas sisters, cough cough Amelia) as well as some basic plot development. Not my favourite chapter of the ones I have planned so far, but absolutely necessary. At the end of this chapter, I'll include translations from last chapter and this chapter, because as the lovely _Tre Corde _pointed out, Embra the raging Scotswoman might as well be speaking a non-English language. Bear with me, dear readers! I promise, the story will pick up after this little chapter! For now, enjoy!**

* * *

**_The_ _Corazón—_December 2nd****, 1889—07:00**

**Captain Antonio Carriedo**

Antonio Carriedo stood on the prow of his airship, letting the chill wind of early morning sting his sun-kissed face and play with his messy brown hair. He had long since learned to appreciate these times of solitude, when he was awake long before the rest of the crew of _T__he_ _Corazón _even began to stir. Today, however, this peace was short-lived.

"_Kapitän_! There is an emergency!" a tall blond man yelled, running up to Antonio's side.

"_Qué pasa_, Ludwig?" Antonio asked calmly, looking the German up and down. Apparently, in his alarm, Ludwig had not yet changed out of his blue and white striped pyjamas, and Antonio had to fight the urge to laugh a little at his first mate.

"We found some stowaways in the cargo hold, sir," Ludwig said in a clipped, almost irritated voice.

"Stowaways? On the _The_ _Corazón_? That's impossible! You must have been dreaming, Luddy! Go back to sleep! You still have another hour!" the Spaniard chortled.

"This is not a joke, _Kapitän_! There really are stowaways in the hold!" Ludwig protested, his cheeks turning red.

"If you insist, then bring them up. Otherwise, I will drop you at the nearest aerodrome for immediate institutionalisation," Antonio said, deciding to humour his first mate.

"_Danke_, sir."

Ludwig disappeared back into the ship, re-emerging some twenty minutes later, accompanied by an ominous and threatening looking man with a pipe sticking out from between his lips.

"Since there were two of them, I decided to ask Abel for help. Now I'm glad that I did," Ludwig mumbled.

Between the men stood two young girls with olive skin, amber eyes, and identical manes of deep red-brown hair pulled back into flouncy ponytails. Each had a curl sticking out the side of her head, one girl's to the right and the other's to the left.

"Unhand me this instant, _bastardo_! I swear to the almighty and omnipotent God above that my _Nonno_ will hear about how roughly you've treated me and my _sorella_!" one of the girls was yelling, trying to squirm out of Abel's grasp. Her sister, on the other hand, looked scared out of her wits, begging in Italian for mercy.

"We found them while we were getting flour for Toris so that we could have biscuits with breakfast," Abel explained, tossing the livid Italian girl to Antonio's feet. Ludwig was trying to quiet her sister down without harming the girl too much, though it was obvious that he wanted to.

"Abel! That is no way to treat _una_ _dama_! Show some respect! These are obviously ladies of high society!" Antonio scolded, fixing his most captain-ish look on the Dutchman.

"My apologies. She bit me, so I reacted," the man said quietly, puffing at his pipe.

Antonio bent down so that he was on eye level with the angry female, who, at this point, had pulled herself up into a sitting position.

"Now then, _querida_, what is your name?" he asked sweetly, replacing his commanding glare with a bright smile.

"I don't have to tell you anything, _bastardo._ My name is my business, and my business only. Now get out of my face!" the girl spat. Antonio laughed a little at how red her face had gotten.

_This one's a spitfire, ciertamente, but she obviously doesn't realise just whose ship she and her hermana have stowed away on,_ Antonio thought to himself.

"You two stowed away on my ship, have been stealing my food, and have alarmed my crew. I do believe that your identities, along with any valuables you might have, are now my business. _Comprende?_" Antonio said coldly. The girl stared up at him, and her sister froze.

"Please don't hurt us, mister! We're good girls, we promise! Our house got attacked and we had to run and these awful evil men chased us and we hid on the first airship we saw and we've been here ever since please don't hurt us we're just innocent virgins please please please! My name's Feliciana and _mia_ _sorella_ is Romana and our _Nonno _is Lucius Vargas!" the girl in Ludwig's arms cried out, tears falling from her big honey-coloured eyes. All three members of _The_ _Corazón _crew looked at each other in stunned silence. The Lucius Vargas? As in the famed general-turned rich and famous politician?The thought hit them all at once as they realised the pair of gems Fate had dropped into their laps.

"_Gracias, querida,_" Antonio said with a wicked smile.

"What should we do with them?" Ludwig asked, finally dropping Feliciana next to her sister.

"Take them to the extra room, the one right next to my own quarters, and find them some nice dresses. I'm sure we have some stashed onboard from some of Heracles' liaisons. We will treat them with respect," Antonio commanded with a wave of his hand. Ludwig and Abel nodded, taking hold of the Vargas sisters again and leading them back into the belly of the ship. This would certainly be interesting.

* * *

_**La Liberté—**_**March 2nd, 1890—07:00**

**Captain Francis Bonnefoy**

Francis Bonnefoy liked to think of himself as the perfect pirate: dashing, greedy, and practically a god in bed. Sure, his ship was small, and he had issues with killing people, but otherwise, he made for a fine pirate, regardless of what Gilbert's first mate said. The stupid young Scotsman was just jealous of Francis's success as a captain.

"Um, excuse me, Captain, uhm, I hate to bother you, but, uhm, it's almost time to go. Are you ready?" came a quiet voice from behind the blond Frenchman. He whipped his head around to find his cousin, Matthew, standing there, holding tightly to a small polar bear charm he'd found in their most recent port of call.

"_Oui_, Mathieu, I am ready. Tell Mister Zwingli to raise the sails and get the engines running. We cannot afford to fall too far behind Carriedo or Beilschmidt, lest that horrid Englishman and his crew catch up to us," Francis said turning to walk back to _La Liberté_. He looked at his airship wonderously. She certainly wasn't the largest airship out there, but she was definitely the most elegant, kept pristine by the very effeminate Polish man who had recently joined the crew.

"All aboard!" Francis yelled once he had boarded the ship. In response, the door closed and the engines roared to life, and within minutes, they were airborne.

Somewhere, on the other side of the busy aerodrome, two large, dark grey airships loomed like a sinister pair of shadows, one flying the flag of the Russian Federation, the other flying the Eastern Republic's flag.

* * *

**_The English Rose—_March 2nd, 1890—07:00**

**Captain Arthur George Kirkland-Mackenzie**

Not too far away, hidden behind a rather large thundercloud, a mid-sized airship sat, easily within view of the Marseilles aerodrome, watching as _La Liberté_ rose into the sky.

"Mister Honda, tell the crew to prepare for a new mission. It looks like old Frogface has taken to the air again, and by God, I'm not letting him take my quarry again this time. Full speed ahead!" exclaimed a young man with thick eyebrows and even thicker blond hair.

"Yes, of course, Arthur-san," said a small Japanese man quietly. He turned and said something into a pipe which was connected to the wall, and at once, the airship sped up until it was directly behind the French ship.

"Also, Mister Honda, bring in the girl. I wish to speak with her a moment about her continued role aboard my ship," Arthur said. His first mate nodded and scurried into the next room, returning five minutes later with a grumpy looking woman in a shockingly short skirt and even more shockingly revealing shirt. Arthur had to force himself to focus on her bouncing golden curls and her vividly blue eyes rather than the other more enticing parts of her.

"You've been slacking on your job, Miss Jones. Perhaps it's because you find my ship so wonderful?" Arthur purred, fixing her with a seductive smirk as he sipped at a glass of amber coloured liquid.

"I've seen outhouses on a farm that're more interesting," she spat in a distinctly American accent.

"Be that as it may, Miss Jones, my dear, you're stuck here until I give you away to the highest bidder. For now, though, I do expect you to be a productive member of this crew," Arthur said. Amelia gave him a confused look, and, for a moment, Arthur wondered if she understood what "productive" meant.

"If you want me to sleep with you, then my answer is no, no, no, no, and no! I refuse, British scum! I'd rather work down in the galley with that girly Finnish kid than come anywhere near you!" Amelia yelled with a look of disgust. Arthur sighed.

_How in this world did her mind jump to that? I don't believe I said anything that could be taken that way, _he mused.

"That can be arranged, my dear. Mister Honda, take Miss Jones down to the kitchen and tell Tino that he may do whatever he pleases with her," Arthur said. The Japanese man took the American by the arm and led her away, quietly speaking words of calm into her ear as Arthur returned his attention to the French ship ahead of them.

* * *

_**Der Adler— **_**March 2nd, 1890—07:00**

**Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt**

"Captain, do you want me to bring your coffee up to your office, or will you take it downstairs with the rest of us?" asked a young man with shaggy strawberry blond hair. His red eyes sparkled mischievously in the early morning sun streaming in through the large bay windows of the captain's office.

"Can you repeat that in German, or at least English? The awesome me can't give you my answer if you're speaking in a language I don't understand" came the German accented reply from behind a tall leather seat.

The young man narrowed his eyes, a little confused by the captain's response, but complied. The man sitting in the seat must have sensed his confusion.

"You were talking in Romanian again, Mircea."

"Oh! My apologies, sir! I said, Captain Beilschmidt, would you like your coffee brought up here, or will you come and join the rest of the crew down in the galley?"

"_Danke_. I will be down in one minute. Send Em-James up. I need to speak to him about our plan," the German voice said nonchalantly.

"Yes sir. I'll tell Berwald to set aside your cup for you!"

Mircea practically skipped out of the office, and the captain heard the boy yell,

"James! Captain Gilbert needs you in his office!"

Two minutes later, a thin young man with a very long mahogany-coloured ponytail and grey eyes appeared at the doorway.

"You wanted me, Captain?" James said in an oddly high-pitched Scottish burr.

"_Ja_. We need to discuss the plan. Francis is leading that English _dummkopf_, and Antonio is monitoring him from the west. We are supposed to be tailing him, but we need you to help in cloaking all three of us as we talked about yesterday. Can't let your stupid little brother catch me and my amazing ship. Do you think you can do it… Miss Embra?" Gilbert said as he turned to face his first mate. His heart raced a little, but he quickly sobered up.

"Is it that obvious this morning?"

"You forgot your bindings. You should thank your lucky stars that Mircea is oblivious. Now go take care of that and then go finish your breakfast. You'll need the energy."

"You realise that he's in on it, too, right? And I'll go take care of it right away, sir," the young woman nodded.

"Hmph, doesn't matter. If you're not careful, someone on this crew who doesn't know might just figure it out. Now go put on the bindings. Otherwise, I'll make you scrub the floors with your toothbrush in a dress for the next two weeks. And I'd have you refer to me as 'The Most Awesome Prussian Captain Gilbert!' Hell, I still might make you do that anyways because it's true," Gilbert cackled.

"I would mutiny."

"Then go take care of it before I change my mind."

The mate turned and left, leaving her silver-haired captain alone. He fixed his jacket and took his hat from its spot on the desk, checking his reflection in the mirror near the door.

"_Mein_ _Gott_ I am awesome," he chuckled quietly.

* * *

**Thanks for checking out chapter 2, y'all! Sorry it kind of sucks, but again, totally necessary as a sort of introductory chapter. Also, remember how I said this would be a PrussiaxScotland story? Yeah, about that...I'm not quite sure, but I might change that pairing so it'll be scotlandxsomeone else(I'll let you guys figure it out as the story progresses). I'm not sure yet, though, so it might still end up being PruScot but don't be surprised if I decide to change that. Otherwise, keep reading! Grazi! Also, I do apologise for the rapid fire introduction of characters. I promise that once we get past these initial, let's say, 5 chapters, it will slow down and you'll actually be introduced to the world in which they live, the conflicts that will actually be the main focus of the story, etc. You know, the important stuff. The first few chapters are really just to introduce you to the main members of each crew, their personalities, and their main interactions, while also naming the other crew members who maybe aren't so prominent. Again, I apologise! This is actually my first story, so it'll take some time for me to get the hang of this. (I feel like I should rename the story "A Poet Tries to Write Prose" What I can also do is add a list of each crew and their positions onboard their respective ships if need be. **

**Translations:**

**Ta gey muckle: Thank you very much (Scots dialect)**

**Ta gey: Thank you (Scots)  
**

**Kapitän: Captain (German)  
**

**¿Qué pasa?: What happened/What's wrong? (Spanish)  
**

**Danke: Thank you (German)  
**

**Bastardo: Bastard (Italian)  
**

**Nonno: Grandfather (Italian)  
**

**Sorella: Sister (Italian)  
**

**Una Dama: a lady (Spanish)  
**

**Querida: dear (Spanish)  
**

**Ciertamente: Certainly (Spanish)  
**

**Hermana: Sister (Spanish)  
**

**¿Comprende?: Understand? (Spanish)  
**

**Gracias, querida: Thank you, dear (Spanish)  
**

**Oui: Yes (French)  
**

**Mein Gott: My God (German)**


	3. Chapter 3: Lumen Vitae

**Chapter 3 is here! This one has a bit more meat to it, so I hope you all enjoy! At the end of the chapter, I'll again include translations, and I also realised that y'all might be getting confused by the human names, so after the translation list, I'll do a list of names and who they correspond to(Well, characters that have been introduced so far) Read and review or send me a PM with any comments, concerns, etc! I love hearing from you all! Also, I forgot to do a disclaimer on the other two chapters, so this disclaimer will be in effect for all chapters before this one and all chapters which come after! I do not own Hetalia, nor any of these characters, with the exception of Embra, Alistair, Dylan, Sean, and Colin. Hope you all enjoy! **

* * *

_**Der Adler—**_**March 2****nd****, 1890— 07:00**

**Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt**

Gilbert strutted down the steps, whistling some old Prussian tune merrily to himself, into the galley where he was greeted by an exhausted looking Hungarian man, a bright eyed Dane, an impish Romanian, and a stone faced Swede with two mugs of coffee in his hands, all gathered around a beautiful oak table borrowed from a castle in Austria.

"M'rnin Capt'n," Berwald said, handing Gilbert one of his cups of coffee.

"_Guten morgen_," Gilbert replied with a wide smile. He glanced around searchingly.

"If you're looking for James, he hasn't come back down yet. Stepped one foot into the galley, then Mircea nearly knocked him down and told him you needed him," Daniel, the Hungarian, muttered.

"I already apologised! Give me a break!" the Romanian yelled.

"Doesn't matter. You're still a childish fool, Romanian," Daniel said.

"Hey, Sve, think I could have another cup of _kaffe_? I took James's watch last night 'cuz the poor guy had that massive headache," Mathias said loudly. The Dane gave Berwald his best puppy dog eyes.

"Here, I'll get it for you. I have to re-make my breakfast cuppa anyways," Embra interjected, grabbing Mathias' mug and carrying it over to the stove.

"Thank you much! Don't forget the sugar!" Mathias grinned.

"Don't worry, I won't," the Scot said, pouring the coffee and making a show of putting in the sugar for Mathias's benefit. She then proceeded to pour hot water into her own mug and drop a packet of Scottish breakfast tea leaves in.

"So, James, your head feeling any better?" Daniel said politely, looking the Scot in the eye insincerely.

"Aye," came the curt response followed by a long sip of tea. The rest of breakfast was had in silence as none of the crew members, save Mathias, were morning people.

"So, _Kapitány_, what's the plan? I'm ready for some action," Daniel said.

Mathias brightened at the mention of action. "Yeah, when are we meeting up with Toni and Francie's crews? We are going to attack Kirkland's ship, aren't we? I heard he's got some American wench aboard, and if what I've heard about those American girls is true, I'd love to get my hands on those-oof! Ow! Berwald! That hurt!"

"St'p being an idi't," Berwald grumbled as the Dane rubbed his side where the Swede had elbowed him.

"It's true! Back me up here, Jamesy-boy! Surely a Scotsman would understand, right?"

Embra looked at him with an incredulous expression.

"I willnae," she sniffed.

"Aw, come on! Don't be such a girl!"

Gilbert and Embra froze for a fraction of a second and looked at each other with matching faces of alarm.

"Relax! It was just a joke! It's not like you're actually a girl! Everyone knows that's bad luck!" Mircea laughed, trying to break the tension. He gave Embra a look when he was sure the others weren't paying attention.

"Hmph. Don't be such _dummkopfs. _You're part of the Awesome Me's crew, and you'll act like it. I need to get back to my office. James, make sure these fools do their work. I want my beautiful ship running as awesomely as its captain does. We need to make our preparations now, before we dock with Francis and Antonio, which is this evening. _Ja_?" Gilbert ordered, pushing his seat back and turning to leave.

"Aye, Captain. I will make sure everything goes accordingly," Embra replied with a hard look at Gilbert.

"What are our assignments, Cap?" Daniel asked earnestly.

"Daniel, get in touch with _La Liberté _and _The_ _Corazón_. Patch them through to _mein_ office. Mircea, you and James go do what I talked with both of you about last night. Mathias, navigate us within sight of Kirkland's ship, but stay far enough away that they don't know we're there. Berwald, bring me a beer in my office and then man the guns. I will give you all more orders later on, but for now, get to work!"

A chorus of "Aye, captain"s and "Yes sir"s sounded around the kitchen and Gilbert's crew scurried off.

_Mein Gott, I love being captain sometimes. I can just tell them to do all of the stuff that I don't want to do, and they do it! Maybe, if I ordered Embra to…Nein. Not now, Gilbert. There will be ample opportunities later tonight..._

Try as he might, Gilbert couldn't rid his mind of the image of Embra wearing only an old nightshirt of his, long enough to cover the important parts, but short enough to keep him very interested. She thought he didn't know that she'd stolen his old shirt, and for the most part, Em was good at scooting past him before he could see her walk into her room across the hall every night, but every once in a while, he looked up two seconds too soon and caught sight of his first mate looking like the female she was.

"_Scheiße_," he muttered to himself, feeling a warmth spreading through his lower body, hoping the others wouldn't notice their captain turning bright red.

Berwald gave him an odd look at the curse, but said nothing and continued to clean the kitchen.

**Alexandru Mircea Bălan—09:00**

Mircea skipped happily to the topmost deck, his long black velveteen cloak flying behind him in the March wind, exposing his white sorcerer's robe to the sunlight, almost blinding a nearby flock of birds.

"Come on, James! It's time to do magic!" he called behind him with a grin.

"You and I both know that the coast is clear, Stupid. You can call me by my name. The others are too scared of magic to bother us anyways," Iona called back, her own dark blue and silver cloak swishing around her legs, joining the long white skirt she wore in nearly tripping her.

Magic time, as Mircea called it, was the only time she didn't crossdress, meaning that only the Romanian and Captain Beilschmidt were aware that she was actually a girl. Mircea knew why she had to keep her identity hidden, especially when they were planning to attack her younger brother's ship. If Arthur Kirkland ever found out that his older sister had taken up with a pirate captain, they'd all be dead. That was why Mircea appreciated these times, moments when he could see the girl Iona once was, and the young woman she could be, if only she hadn't joined a pirate crew. He liked these times.

"Sorry, 'ona. Force of habit," the blond said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head and nearly losing his bowler hat to the wind.

"Do you want to draw out the spell, or should I?" Iona asked, holding out a piece of charcoal in one hand, and a piece of chalk in the other.

"I'll do the spell itself, if you'll do the outer spells. As an added bonus, I'll let you start the incantation this time!" Mircea replied, taking the chalk. They set about their work, Mircea drawing the five-pointed star and the runes for the particular spell, while Iona hopped from point to point, writing minor spells in old Scots Gaelic behind Mircea's Latin inscriptions. Fifteen minutes later, the two stood side by side, admiring their handiwork.

"Okay, you know what to say?" Mircea said.

"Aye, Ah do," was the short answer. They walked to opposite ends of the star and sat cross-legged, placing various minor items of value into gold plates in the centre of the star as they went to their places.

"Ready?" Iona said, looking the Romanian in the eye.

"As ever. Let's go," Mircea said calmly.

Iona began to chant in Latin as the wind picked up. The items in the plates caught fire, but burned a wicked blue colour.

She repeated the phrase a second time while Mircea joined in. The entire circle began to glow, and the wind started howling.

They chanted a third time, and the outer spells glowed black.

The fourth and final repetition, they yelled, and suddenly, the entire ship was enveloped in bright white light. Far away ahead of the ship, an identical light was spotted on the horizon, and to the west, another. Down below, they could hear Gilbert swear loudly, most likely startled out of an impromptu nap.

The wind died down, the flames disappeared, and the chalk and charcoal drawings were back to normal as the two sorcerers looked at each other, red eyes meeting grey.

"Did it work?" Mircea asked sheepishly.

"Aye," Iona said breathlessly. She looked pale and exhausted, but satisfied.

"Should we go back down, or…?"

"Will you bring me my clothes and bindings? And maybe a glass of water?" Iona asked weakly. Mircea nodded and ran downstairs, paying no heed to the layers of cloth that threatened to hinder his movements.

"How'd it go, Magic Man?" Mathias asked, grinning widely.

"I think it went well. James said it did, but he's stronger than I am," Mircea replied hurriedly. He ducked into Iona's room, grabbed the items she'd requested, and ducked back out, making an effort to hide his bundle from the eyes of anyone who might be in the hallway.

"Here ya go! It was a bit of a close call with Mathias, but I'm faster than he is, so no worries! Now be quick while I go get you that water. Do you want me to send the captain up?"

"Privacy, please," was the growled reply. Mircea handed the young woman her things and ran back downstairs, all the way to the galley. He counted off ten minutes before going back up to the top deck with the water. By that point, Iona had changed back into blue pants and a loose, billowy white shirt, hair back in a ponytail. If he hadn't known any better, Mircea would've thought that she was simply a really girly male.

"Ta gey muckle, Mircea. How are you feeling?" she said with a wan smile.

"A little tired, but not too bad. Should we go down and check with Gil now?" Mircea answered carefully.

"Na, he's radioing wi' Francis 'n' Antonio. It'll be a while before he's done. They clishmaclaver like a bunch of milkmaids," Iona chuckled softly.

"They what?"

"They gossip. It's Scottish slang."

"...Oh. So what should we do?"

"Just stay up here for a while. It's nice out today, and the cold feels good."

Mircea nodded.

"I'll be right back. I need to go change."

Iona nodded a little and then lay down, using her dress as a pillow.

She was still lying there a few minutes later when he returned, eyes closed and a small smile on her face. Mircea sat down beside her, alternating between watching the clouds and looking at the girl he considered his best friend, until he realised that he'd forgotten something downstairs. Making sure that Iona was asleep, he scurried back down into the main hallway, trying to remember where he'd left his hat. He stopped as he passed the captain's office, quietly pressing his ear to the door.

"_Ja_, everything is in place. The plan is a go. Rendezvous at 22:00?"

* * *

**I still haven't yet decided on that pairing change, but I should know by tomorrow. I think I probably will end up changing it, just to add more drama to the plot. Hope you kiddos enjoyed chapter 3! DOn't forget to leave a review!**

**Translations:**

**Der Adler: The Eagle (German)**

**Characters so far:**

**Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland: England**

**Iona Margaret "Embra" Kirkland-Mackenzie: Scotland(OC)**

**Sean Kirkland-Mackenzie: Ireland( OC)**

**Colin Kirkland-Mackenzie: Northern Ireland(OC)**

**Dylan Kirkland-Mackenzie: Wales(OC)**

**Alistair James Kirkland-Mackenzie: Scotland(Highlands)(OC)**

**Antonio Carriedo: Spain**

**Ludwig Beilschmidt: Germany**

**Abel Dahl: Netherlands**

**Lovina Vargas: South Italy**

**Feliciana Vargas: North Italy**

**Francis Bonnefoy: France**

**Matthew Williams: Canada**

**Vash Zwingli: Switzerland**

**Kiku Honda: Japan**

**Amelia Jones: America**

**Mircea Bălan: Romania**

**Daniel Héderváry: male Hungary**

**Berwald Oxenstierna: Sweden**

**Mathias Køhler: Denmark**

**Gilbert Beilschmidt: Prussia**

**That's all for now, folks!**


	4. Chapter 4: Esté Preparado

**_La_ _Liberté—_March 2nd, 1890—16:00**

**Captain Francis Bonnefoy**

"_Oui, oui, je sais, mes amis,_" Francis said into the radio microphone. He could almost see Gilbert's demon-eyed glare through the speaker, and Antonio's clueless tone gave away how unprepared all three captains felt. What they were planning was difficult. Very difficult.

"_Ja_, but how do we know that James and Mircea's spell worked? How do we know that Kirkland isn't already preparing his guns and cannons and magic to blow us right out of the skies? My crew is awesome, because they're my crew, but they're still just human," came Gilbert's nervous reply. Francis knew that Gilbert's confidence from the beginning of their conversation had all but disappeared as the three men had continued talking. Reality was beginning to hit them.

"We hope for the best, obviously! _Suéltalo_!" Antonio said cheerily.

"Toni, we don't speak fucking Spanish. What the hell did you just say?" Gilbert hissed.

"I said let it go! If the spell was successful, then the spell was successful. If not, well, then, I enjoyed being friends with you two, _mis_ _amigos_!" Antonio said.

Francis ran a hand through his blond hair, admiring how long it had gotten for a moment. He let out a frustrated yet resigned sigh.

"Anyways, the plan is still the same. At 22:00 we will rendezvous on my ship since I am the closest to Kirkland. We will divide our crews up into teams and conquer from there, _non?_" Francis said.

"_Ja_, sounds good to me."

"_Sí_, _bueno_!"

"_Tres bien_. I will see you two then. Oh, and Gilbert, say hello to James for me, will you?" Francis said as he signaled to Yao to turn off the radio. All he heard in response was a grunt and then static.

_ Ohonhonhon I cannot wait to see the look on that stupid scone-eating fool's face when he realises that he's flown straight into a trap! Maybe then, Embra will want me as I have wanted her since I left her!_ Francis thought with an evil grin. James was the first Scottish person he'd met since Embra, and he always felt that by saying hello to James, he was also saying hello to his former girlfriend. He glanced over at a picture of four teens that sat on his desk. It wasn't difficult to recognise him, Gilbert, and Antonio, even with their hair slicked back and their uniforms in pristine condition. They had been such cocky little twerps back then, thinking the entire world was at their fingertips, if they could only just obtain an airship and some people stupid enough to follow them. Francis' gaze rested on the fourth person in the photo, a young woman with dark, elbow-length hair pulled back halfway, and extremely light eyes. She wore a slight smile, taunting almost, as though she were up to something that the three boys behind her did not know. Her white dress was without a single speck of dirt, and the tips of her black boots peeked out from underneath her skirt. Francis let out a wistful sigh and turned away from the picture.

_"_One day," he mumbled.

The Frenchman went about making sure his crew and his ship were ready for the approaching mission.

"Zwingli! Make sure that all weapons are towards the door for ease of distribution. Also, make sure that there is no alcohol in sight. We cannot afford any mistakes brought about by alcohol," he barked, making his first mate jump slightly.

"Yes sir! I'll have Feliks do that now," came the curt reply.

Francis continued walking from room to room, checking on his little four person crew.

"Matthieu, make sure that Arthur's ship does not leave our range. Hopefully, the spell that Gilbert's men cast has taken effect by now."

"Y-yes s-sir," the Canadian stuttered.

"Yao! Make me some tea, but none of that disgusting British _merde_. Oolong sounds delightful right now."

"I will immediately, Captain!" the Chinese man said with a mock salute.

Francis walked into the small dining room of the ship and sat down at the head, putting his feet up on the table. What in the world were they getting themselves into? Were they really going to try to take on a rogue English sky privateer?

The Frenchman thought about his opponent and longtime enemy. The Englishman had hated him ever since he had spent three years courting Arthur's older sister, only to break things off in favour of becoming a pirate. Francis sighed at the thought of Embra, wondering how she was faring with both parents and her twin brother dead, while another brother was a glorified pirate. He felt bad for having left her, abruptly ending their three year relationship when he'd found himself a ship and other beautiful girls with much less stringent morals. However, that didn't stop him from remembering how he'd showered her with beautiful clothing, flowers, perfumes, and extravagant trips while her youngest brother seethed at the thought of his sister even considering marrying a "Frenchie". Even more ironic had been the fact that Embra's own twin brother, Alistair, had actually approved wholeheartedly of Francis' intentions, and the other three Kirkland-Mackenzie siblings had also enjoyed his company. He would never tell anyone as much, but he still had a few of the dresses he'd meant to give to Embra stashed away in his room, waiting for the right moment to present them to her. Granted, they were nothing in comparison to his own fabulous wardrobe, but then again, not much really could compare.

"Sir, everything is ready. The rest of the crew would like to know if they are allowed to take a bit of a rest before tonight's mission," a voice said, bringing Francis out of his reverie. He looked up and made eye contact with Vash.

"I don't see any reason why not. You and I need to discuss the plan anyway, as I'm sure Toni and Gil have already done, or are currently doing, with their own first mates. Tell the men that they have four hours to do whatever they want, but that they should be ready to eat and then move once those four hours are up. Understood? The others will be here in six hours," Francis said. Vash nodded and hurried out of the dining room. The Swiss man came back in a few moments later, and took his seat at the right hand of his captain, knowing that this was where he would, rather regretfully, spend his four hour break.

**_The Corazón_- March 2nd, 1890— 19:00**

**Captain Antonio Carriedo**

Antonio hummed cheerily to himself as he walked down to the galley.

_I wonder if we have any churros...I would kill for some right now..._ he thought, visions of _churros_ with chocolate and coffee and caramel and other various toppings danced in his head. He loved being a captain, but he certainly did miss Spain. He was not expecting the scene that greeted him in the kitchen.

_"¡Ay Dios Mío! _What in this world is going on?"he yelled. A pair of amber eyes glared back at him.

"Stupid Spanish _bastardo_ and your stupid ship. There's nothing to eat on this God-forsaken piece of crap! What the fuck am I supposed to eat?" Romana growled.

"The same thing that the rest of us eat, of course!" Antonio said.

"What? Ew, no! I'm not eating the same shit as the rest of you fucking pirates! Don't you have any pizza, or maybe some tomatoes? Hell, I'll even take pasta with meatballs! Just give me something! I'm starving!" the Italian girl fumed. Her face was turning a brilliant shade of red, and Antonio could almost see the hair on her head becoming increasingly frizzy and messy from anger.

Suddenly, a loud growl echoed throughout the room, stopping both of them in their tracks.

The two stood in stunned silence for a moment.

"Romana...was that you?" Antonio sheepishly asked as his stomach gave a small growl of its own.

"Of course that was me, you idiot! I just told you, I'm starving!" she yelled.

"Okay, okay, let me see what we can find for you, _mi tomato pequeña_," he said, putting his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

"What did you just call me?" she hissed.

"Well, you look like a tomato, so..."

"Don't. You. Dare."

"Anyways, let's find you something to eat! We have a big night tonight, and we need to make sure that everybody has the energy!" Antonio said with a smile, diving into the icebox. A few moments later, he resurfaced with some bread and cheese, which Romana quickly snatched from him.

"Good enough. I'll be in my room, idiot. Don't bother me," she said. Antonio watched her walk away before returning to the icebox to find something for himself. His efforts were rewarded with some _gazpacho_ sitting in a bowl at the back.

_What a cute girl. It's a pity she has the mouth of a forty year old man, but she really is quite lovely,_ he thought to himself.

Happily, the young captain downed his soup, dipping small pieces of bread in it, wishing he had some _sangria_ to accompany the meal. For a little while, he could forget about the Italian stowaways and the looming Eastern threat, erase the planned attack on Kirkland's ship from his mind, and pretend he was back in Seville, enjoying a nice day in the weeks leading up to _Semana_ _Santa_.

"Captain, you are needed," Ludwig said, much too soon for Antonio's liking.

"_Sí, _I know. Just give me a few more minutes, Ludwig."

"No, Captain, now. It's only three hours until we rendezvous with Captains Beilschmidt and Bonnefoy. Viktor needs help with making sure the ship connectors are ready so that the docking process will be as smooth as possible. We don't have time to waste, sir."

Antonio hung his head, looking down at the half-full bowl of _gazpacho_ in front of him.

"Don't worry, sir. There'll be time for your soup later, but for now, we need you."

The Spaniard pushed back from the table, not even bothering to clear his plate if he was coming back later.

He and Ludwig walked to the main door of the ship, currently shut and sealed tightly by a series of locks and gears. Standing to the right of the door was a tired man with bright green eyes and straight black hair neatly parted down the middle. He was alternating between cursing in Bulgarian and cursing in English while glaring at a small screen.

"Damn thing was working for us two days ago in Amsterdam when we needed to stock up on alcohol, but isn't working for us now when we need it to hook up with the others. Damn fucking piece of shit," he grumbled.

"Need some help there, _amigo_?" Antonio said with a smile. The Bulgarian man looked up at him.

"You wouldn't know how to set the correct information for Bonnefoy's ship, would you? It keeps telling me I'm in-putting incorrect numbers," he said.

"Hmm...Let me take a look at it, Viktor. Most likely, Francis' radioman gave me the incorrect measurements. Doors only come in certain sizes, so the computer only recognises standard numbers. _Vale_, let's see," Antonio played around with the small computer for a moment, "Aha! There's our problem! You're not used to working in a more Western style, are you? You were putting the decimals in the wrong places, Viktor. No worries! I'll teach you after the raid, _sí?" _

"Yes sir. _Blagodarya_," Viktor said, bowing his head slightly.

"_De nada, amigo!_ Now, is there anything else?"

"Nope! I got it all taken care of! You might want to go check on Heracles. Last time I walked past the bridge, he had fallen asleep. He was up really late last night, talking about a bunch of philosophical stuff. I know, because I heard him muttering to himself about 'the soul' and 'what would Plato do?' and all of that."

"I will make a point of it, Viktor. Carry on, then, and report to me once you're done," Antonio said.

He and Ludwig left the entrance area of the ship and ventured into Antonio's study.

"Do you think we're ready for tonight, Ludwig? I can't help but worry about such an undertaking, especially now that we have those two girls on our ship. I don't want to be responsible if something happens to them."

"_Ja_, Captain, I think we're ready. We certainly have the advantage. My brother's crew has two powerful sorcerers and some very wicked fighters to boot. Francis' crew may lack in any sort of true fighting ability, with the exception of that gun-toting, trigger-happy first mate of his, but they're good at distracting opponents long enough for the rest of us to actually succeed, and heaven knows that Kirkland will be too busy arguing with Bonnefoy to really use any of his own magic against us. As for this crew, I have the utmost faith in us, with the glaring exception of the two girls. Otherwise, I feel that we will be successful in this endeavour. However, you should probably start preparing yourself. I will leave you be and do the same. Good day, Captain."

With that, Ludwig was gone, leaving Antonio to sit in his office alone to face the knot of dread growing in his stomach.


	5. Chapter 5: Calm Before the Storm

**_The English Rose-_ March 2nd, 1890— 21:25**

**Captain Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland**

"It's been much too quiet lately, don't you think, Mister Honda? Nobody's tried to blow our brains out in at least two weeks, the Russian Federation and the Eastern Republic have both been silent lately, and even Old Frogface disappeared earlier today. Now it's just us and the open skies," Arthur mused, toying with the feather in his hat.

"Indeed, it has, Arthur-san. I've been feeling a sense of unease as well. All day, I've had the odd notion that perhaps we are being followed, even before the French ship dropped out. I believe we should be on our guard for tonight, but I wouldn't give it too much thought," Kiku said, glancing out the window at the night sky. It was a cloudy night over the eastern border of France, but the Japanese man could still see towers of billowing smoke coming from various factories below them.

"Has there even been any word on the Russians? I'm not too worried about the Eastern Republic. They're mainly focused in Asia. It's the Russians that scare me. Have you heard the reports from Bucharest? The city's been taken over, and the Romanian government has had to relocate. They say that they're working towards Moldova **and **Bulgaria now. Not to mention the fact that they've already taken Ukraine and Belarus, and they're also working their way through Poland. Western Europe needs to be preparing for war," Arthur said with a tired look.

"I would agree, most certainly, but you, as well as everyone, knows that none of the European powers can cooperate long enough to draw up a battle plan, not when they're too worried about their own countries individually to think about the whole of Europe. For now, I believe it is every man for himself, as you Europeans say."

Arthur let out a small grunt and leaned back in his chair. Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for the response before opening.

"Miss Jones, what have I told you about proper etiquette?"

"Sorry, Cap. I was just wandering around the ship. You didn't tell me you had so many awesome guns stashed around here! I mean, my dad was in the military, so he had a bunch of them lying around our house, but you, you've got ten times as many as he did! It's so awesome! You gotta let me try some of them out sometime!" the American woman exclaimed. Her face lit up as she talked about the many firearms Arthur kept on _The __English__ Rose_ and Arthur felt his blood pressure rising.

"Miss Jones, did it not occur to you that my first mate and I are having an actual discussion of some importance here?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Actually, Arthur-san, I was about to take my leave of you anyway. Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss Amelia," Kiku said, bowing. He shut the door quietly behind him.

"So this is your office? It's kind of... boring. Where are the personal touches? Don't you have any family or anything?" Amelia said, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking back and forth on her feet. She still hadn't changed out of that damn skirt that might as well have not been there, for all it covered, and Arthur had to fight the heat rising in his face.

"I feel it to be inappropriate for a man of my status to show off my private life to the public. This is my workspace, not some home office to be displayed for all to see."

"That's boring. You must not have a great relationship with your family, then. I know that if I had my own office, I'd decorate it with tons of pictures of me and my cousins! We're from each of the fifty states!"

"I'm the youngest of six," Arthur said quickly, answering her question only for the sole purpose of getting her out of his office as soon as possible.

"Six? Jeez! Your parents must have really loved each other to do that enough to get six kids!"

"Four of my older siblings are twins."

"Oh. I see. What are they like?"

"My oldest brother, Alistair, and both of my parents are dead, Alistair's twin sister, Iona, abandoned us on Christmas Day five years ago, one of my brothers, Dylan, is married to a girl in Wales, and the other set of twins, Sean and Colin, owns a department store in Ireland." Arthur had long ago learned to not care about the tragic story of his family. What sort of captain would he be if he broke down in tears at the mere mention of his family?

"No wonder you're so grumpy all the time. I would be too if my family was like that."

"Isn't it past your bedtime, Miss Jones?"

"Hey! I'm just trying to be friendly! No need to throw me out!"

"I don't want to talk about my family. Now is not the time. It's 21:30, and I still have things I have to do. Goodnight, Miss Jones."

Amelia stuck her bottom lip out in a pout and gave him a large, blue-eyed puppy-dog stare.

"I said, _goodnight Miss Jones_," Arthur growled, glaring at her.

"Fine. Nighty-night, Artie. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

The American turned on her heel and sauntered out, slamming the door so hard, it knocked a few books off of the shelves.

Arthur ran a hand through messy blond hair.

"That woman will be the death of me," he sighed aloud. Talking about his family had opened a can of worms he really hadn't wanted to, and he felt the need to drink it away, but the pit in his stomach reminded him that he needed to be alert.

_How in the world did we even end up taking her as our prisoner? Was it in Washington? No, we found her in London, trying to rob my old house. Should've just shot the damn girl and been done with it. Why didn't I? Oh, right, she's an attractive thing...until she opens that mouth of hers_, he thought to himself.

The door creaked open slowly.

"I told you, Miss Jones, go away. I will not repeat myself again!" the Englishman snapped. He heard a small whimper.

"I'm sorry, Captain Arthur. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just wondering if you were going to want Mister Tino to make you some tea before you go to your room tonight, sir," a young boy said.

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were that obnoxious American. Tea would be lovely, Stefan," Arthur smiled gently at the young Moldovan.

"I'll go tell Mister Tino," Stefan said, turning to leave before freezing in the doorway.

"What is it, Stefan?"

"The hallways are really dark, and my big brother isn't here to walk with me."

The boy sniffled a little, his big red-brown eyes tearing up.

"Here, I'll walk with you," Arthur said. He liked the little Moldovan cabin boy for his innocence and unwavering faith in the Englishman, even if his older brother was a member of Gilbert Beilschmidt's crew. The boy reminded him of himself, back before Arthur had lost his parents and his eldest siblings, and he knew that all of them, especially Iona, would've wanted him to take care of the boy.

"Thank you!" Stefan replied, giving Arthur a large, fanged smile.

"I guess Kiku must have turned off the hallway lights on his way to his room. Don't worry, my boy. No monster will be getting you tonight," Arthur chuckled as he and Stefan walked down to the galley.

"What about other pirates?"

"No other pirates will hurt us either, I swear."

**_Der Adler—_ 21:45**

**First Mate Iona Margaret "Embra" Kirkland-Mackenzie**

"I don't see why in hell I'm not allowed to go onto Arthur's ship. If anyone's going to give us an advantage against him, it's me, you idiot!" Iona yelled. She paced around Gilbert's office, her long mahogany braid whipping around behind her like the tail of a very angry cat.

"We'll be fine without you. We need someone to stay and defend the ships while we're gone, and who better than an awesome Celtic sorceress? The Awesome Me doesn't just trust anyone with my ship, so you should be honoured," Gilbert said nonchalantly. Iona narrowed her stormy grey eyes at him.

"I should be honoured? Gilbert, you're letting your ego get in your way. This 'I don't trust anyone with my ship' stuff is bullshit. You have ten seconds to tell me why you really don't want me to go, or else I'll set off an alarm and alert my darling brother of the imminent attack. You got that, Gilbert?" she said, halting in front of Gilbert's desk. Gibert's mask of confidence dropped.

"Well...uh..."

"Ten."

"About that."

"Nine...eight...seven."

"You see..."

"Six...five...fou-"

"Because I don't want you getting hurt, that's why!"

"And?"

"And because if something happened and Arthur found out that you were my girlfriend, we'd all be hexed into next century."

"And?"

"And because I don't entirely trust that Feliks kid to watch all three of our ships by himself, okay?"

"There we go."

"But mainly, I just don't want you to get hurt or be found out because then, I'd probably have to send you away."

"I'm not going to get caught. I'll even keep Mircea with me. Lord knows that we have enough magic between the two of us to blow all four ships out of the sky if we needed to. Mir may be a little immature sometimes, but he knows when it's time to be serious. I'll be fine, Gil. I'm more worried about you getting yourself killed. I'm not ready to be Captain Mackenzie," the Scotswoman said. She uncrossed her arms and sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at the albino captain.

"Pfft, I'll be fine. I'm too awesome and manly to get killed by your wimpy little brother and his band of 'gentlemen.' I'm invincible!" Gilbert said, standing up so that he now towered over Iona.

"You'd better be. I'm not paying for your funeral," Iona said, looking away from him. Gilbert sobered up, his gaze softening. He walked around so that he was in front of her and looked her in the eye.

"You won't have to, Embra. If I allow you to go with us, do you promise that, once the group splits up to take care of the entirety of Kirkland's crew, you'll be safe? I don't think I could afford to lose you. It would completely un-awesome," he said, lifting her face. He placed a soft kiss on her lips, which tasted of caramel and whiskey and cinnamon, and then rested his forehead against hers. The young woman smirked, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes.

"Aye, I promise. I'll stay out of Arthur's sight. Mircea and I will just go about raiding the treasure hold. Knowing my brother, he's picked up some pretty pieces along his travels, all under the auspices of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. I could find something nice to wear later tonight when we-"

Iona wasn't able to finish her sentence as Gilbert kissed her again, this time harder and much more passionately. He pushed her down onto the desk, playing with the hem of her shirt as her own hands moved to the buttons of his shirt. It was as though time stopped, and the two of them weren't planning an attack on another ship. They were simply a pair of kids who couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

"We shouldn't be doing this. Not now, you fool. You out of all of us need to have a clear mind. Get off of me," she hissed. Gilbert looked at her, hurt but understanding.

"Heh, you're right. I should save that for after we're victorious. Go get ready, Miss Mackenzie. Be ready and armed at the airlock in five."

"Aye, Captain," Iona said, standing up and tucking in her shirt.

**_The Corazón—21:50_**

**Captain Antonio Carriedo**

Antonio holstered two pistols and checked for his extra ammunition hidden safely in his pocket. He glanced at the two Italian girls sitting behind his desk.

"You two will stay out of sight, okay? If anything happens, scream and I'll come find you both."

The girls nodded and Feliciana burst into tears, frightened by the flurry of activity and weaponry going on outside the door.

**_La Liberté—21:50_**

**Captain Francis Bonnefoy**

"Guns, check. Sword, check. Devilish good looks? _Oui!_ I do believe I'm prepared," Francis thought aloud. He looked around his private study one last time, eyes falling on the photograph sitting on the desk.

"_Merde_. I would be a fool to leave that behind, just in case anything happened to my beautiful ship."

He slipped the picture out of its frame and tucked it safely in the pocket of his coat.

"Captain, we're all ready. Both ships are coming in to dock now, and we're rapidly approaching Kirkland's ship," Vash said, sticking his head in the door.

"Thank you, Vash. Make sure everyone is at the entrance, ready to greet our guests."

**_Der Adler—_21:59**

**Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt**

Gilbert grinned confidently. His crew was assembled, collectively holding their breath in preparation for docking with Francis' ship. Mathias and Berwald stood together, looking calm and collected, rifles in hand. Daniel, who was temporarily taking over as Gilbert's right-hand man, stood off to his side, occasionally glancing at the Prussian, waiting for any sort of direction. Mircea and Embra sat on the floor directly in front of the airlock, both wearing long, dark cloaks with intricate embroidery, but otherwise were dressed in pants and shirts and boots. Embra was leaning up against Mircea's legs, playing with a loose string on one of the Romanian's boots. Gilbert let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Just seeing Embra wearing masculine clothing made him feel a little less nervous about her being found out.

Gilbert checked his watch, and at exactly 22:00, all of them were nearly knocked off of their feet and onto the floor as they docked with the French ship, and the airlock opened. The crew of _Der_ _Adler_ was greeted by the blond Frenchman and his tiny crew, and on the other side of the ship, through the second airlock, they could see Antonio's crew meeting the same greeting.

"So, _mes amis_, are we ready?" Francis sneered.

"Full speed towards _The __English__ Rose_! Viktor, get the other airlock ready!" Antonio yelled.

"We do this, now!" Gilbert added, earning a cheer from all three crews.

The three airships moved at full speed towards the English ship as one giant unit. The time had finally come.


	6. Chapter 6: Roundtable Rivals

**_The Corazón—_March 2nd_, _1890—22:10**

**Romana Vargas**

"I can't believe they just left us here! I mean, come on! What if some creepy pirate guy sneaks onto the ship and finds us? I don't even want to think about what he might do!" Romana said. She glanced worriedly at the revolver in her hands. "I don't even know how to work this damn thing! How the hell does that bastard expect us to be able to defend ourselves?"

"_Ve, sorella_, calm down. We'll be okay! Mister Ludwig said so!" Feliciana said with a smile. In the three months they'd been on the ship, Feliciana had become close to the German first mate, or as close to him as anyone could really get.

"I don't care what that stupid krautface told you! He's not a fortune teller! He doesn't even like us!"

"Well, Mister Abel is still on the ship. He'll make sure we don't get hurt!"

"He doesn't like us either! None of these damn pirates like us! Get that through your head, Feli! They're only keeping us around as a bargaining chip."

"Well, at least that means they're gonna let us live~"

"Hmph. Come on, Feli. Let's go explore the ship. I'm not gonna spend my entire evening cooped up in this tiny God-forsaken room! Any stupid pirate who decides to try to attack us is going to have hell to pay," Romana said. She opened the door and walked out, followed quickly by her sister.

The two girls crept quietly though the hallway, much as they had for the three days before Antonio's men had found them a few months ago, but for much different reasons. Everything was silent, except for faint voices coming from the airlocks.

"We must be getting close to that stupid English ship. I think everybody's gathered near our second lock."

"_Ve~ _I wonder if there's any pasta in the kitchen."

"There isn't, Feli. I checked earlier. There's nothing."

The ship was rocked again, and the two females heard the sound of the second airlock opening.

"Heh, the stupid Englishman must've been enjoying the evening! They left their airlock open!" they heard someone say with a strong Danish accent.

All at once, they heard captains giving out orders and people leaving the ship in small groups until finally, everything was completely silent.

"They're all...gone..." was all Romana could say.

"Shouldn't you two be back in the captain's office?" came a gruff voice behind them. Abel loomed over them, pipe between his teeth. Both girls cowered.

"Right, we'll be getting back now," Feliciana squeaked.

The Dutchman followed them all the way to Antonio's office, personally making sure to shut the door behind him.

"Hmph. He's rude!" Feliciana pouted. Romana just nodded, too pissed off for words.

**_The English Rose— _22:30**

**Alexandru Mircea Bălan**

"Come on, Iona. We need to find this other magic user before he finds us," Mircea whispered. He and Iona tiptoed through the main hallway of the very large English ship.

"I'm right behind you, stupid. Now be quiet," Iona hissed.

"Wait...how're we gonna know this room when we find it?" Mircea asked.

"No idea, but if I know Arthur Kirkland at all, he's put his most powerful crew member on guard of their treasure room, so I figure we look for the most powerful looking crew member. Either that, or some sort of room that isn't like the others. I'm really not sure, Mir," Iona said.

"Guess we'll find out soon enough," Mircea shrugged.

Suddenly, Iona pulled him inside a doorway and clamped a hand over his mouth. They both fell backwards into an empty closet, Mircea accidentally kicking the door shut.

"_Rahat!_ What the hell was that for?" the Romanian muttered.

"I thought I heard someone coming. Will you get off of me? I can barely breathe with you sitting on top of me. You smell awful, Mir," Iona said. Mircea was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was on top of the Scotswoman, and while he couldn't actually see her, he knew that her face was bright red and her expression murderous.

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, standing up. He reached out a gloved hand in front of where he knew her face must be, and felt her take it.

"I think it's safe, but we have to be **quiet**," she said.

They stepped back out into the hallway, greeted only by the distant sounds of metal clanging and punches being thrown.

A few doors later, they found a stairwell leading down into the very heart of the ship.

"This has to be it," Mircea said. Iona nodded, pulling her hood over her head. The Scotswoman led the way, trying to be as silent as possible on the stairs.

At the bottom, they found exactly what they were looking for. Chests were overflowing with gold and jewels, and an entire dresser was covered in various tiaras, necklaces, and women's hair combs encrusted with valuable stones. Immediately, Iona yanked her hood down, and untied her ponytail, letting her hair fall in waves over her shoulders and down her back.

"Look at it all, Mircea! It's _bonnie_!" she cried, taking a tiara in her hands. She placed it on her head and marveled at the headpiece in a nearby mirror.

"My lady," Mircea said, dramatically bowing. He watched as his friend picked up various "sparklies" and tried them on, laughing with delight at all of the valuables.

"C'mere!" Iona said. He closed the gap between them and felt her take his shirt, pulling him closer. His heart raced a little until he realised what she was doing. He looked down at his shirt after she released him and saw that she had pinned a small medal on his chest, and then recognised the piece as being Romanian.

"How'd you know?" he asked with a grin.

"It looked like it would suit you. Lucky guess."

"No, really."

"That picture of you and your family that you showed me that one time. Your dad was wearing a medal like this. I remembered it."

This earned an even bigger and very fanged smile from the Romanian. He looked over the dresser, searching for something to give Iona in return. His eyes finally landed on a set of hair combs with diamond flowers on them.

"Well, I do believe such a gift deserves something in return. Lower your head," he said. Iona complied, and Mircea clumsily twisted the combs into her messy hair.

"There we go! And look at that dressing gown!"

He walked over to a chaise and picked up a pink silk dressing gown, obviously oriental in origin.

"I want it," was all Iona could say.

"We can use it to carry loot!" Mircea said, suddenly remembering that they did have an actual mission. The two gathered up the robe, making it so that they could use it to carry things, and started piling as much as they could into their makeshift bag.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" a cool voice behind them said. The Scot and the Romanian froze. A young man with pale blond hair stood on the stairs looking bored. Mircea noticed that he had an odd curly cowlick sticking out behind him.

"We're just helping you guys organise! We'll get going now," he said sheepishly.

"Wrong. I'm under strict orders to protect this room. You two try stepping out of here with that in tow, and you'll both be fried to a crisp," the man said in what sounded like some sort of Nordic accent.

"That would be very ambitious of you, kid," Iona smirked. She locked eyes with the man for a moment before chuckling, "I do believe we know a good friend of yours, Lukas. No, wait, we know two of your friends. They're actually here on the ship tonight. We're just small fry," she said knowingly.

"H-how'd you do that?"

"That's one of the first spells I learned as a _bairn_: mind reading spell. It's very simple. My mother taught me, and I taught all of my brothers, as well as my associate here. Nothing big, really. I only learnt what I needed to."

"Hmph. I still can't let you pass," Lukas said.

"Very well, then. Just promise us you'll give a good fight," Mircea said. He and Iona put down their load and brandished weapons. The Romanian lunged at the blond man, but was hit in the arm with something cold—ice.

"So you're Arthur's magician, are you? Goody. I was looking forward to this," Mircea sneered.

The Romanian prepared his own counter spell, aiming for the other's heart, but Lukas moved ever so slightly, breaking Mircea's focus. A flash of light flew past him and hit the man on the leg before Iona moved in, armed with a dagger.

"Take the spell off now, or else I won't miss your head next time," she growled.

"As if. I have my orders," Lukas spat.

Both Iona and Mircea responded with spells, but again, Lukas dodged them.

"Come on, Norwegian. You're no fun," Iona taunted. She shot a beam of red light at Lukas' chest, narrowly missing his heart, while Mircea went in with his own dagger, getting the man in the other leg. The Norwegian howled.

"I do suggest you reconsider. We're much more likely to be merciful if yo—" Iona began to say, only to be punched in the gut.

"Watch who you're hitting, creep! Iona, are you okay?" Mircea yelled.

"Aye! I'm fine! Focus, Mircea!" Iona called in return.

Mircea kicked Lukas square in the groin and plunged his dagger into the Norwegian's arm. Iona jumped up and added her own dagger to the equation when she slashed Lukas across the chest.

"Fine, fine! There was no spell! It was a bluff that the captain told me to use! Just have mercy on me, please!" Lukas cried, curling up into a protective ball.

"_Ta gey muckle_," Iona said in a sing-songy voice. The two crew members of _Der__ Adler_ gathered up their loot once more and scurried up the stairs, leaving the Norwegian to moan and howl in pain on the floor of the basement.

"I'm going to go find the captain and tell him that we've succeeded in our part of the mission, okay? Will you be fine going back to the ship by yourself, Mir?" Iona said.

"Yes! Be safe!" he said.

"Take care of my robe, Mircea. And thank you for the combs," the Scotswoman said. Before Mircea could say anything else, Iona was gone.

Mircea felt that he was being watched, but shook it off as being nothing. He walked back towards the entrance of the ship, not noticing the large red-brown eyes that stared at him from behind a wall.

"Mircea..." Stefan whispered.

**First Mate Iona Margaret "Embra" Kirkland-Mackenzie**

Finding the fight was not difficult, nor was finding Gilbert. He and his younger brother, Ludwig, were fighting off one very angry Australian man whom Iona recognised as her cousin, Jack. She slipped around to Gilbert's side.

"Mircea and I have succeeded. How long 'till the other teams are done?" she said, eyes flashing silver as she froze the Australian for a moment.

"Wonderful. The rest will be along within the next hour. Report back to the ship before you get yourself hurt or recognised," Gilbert hissed. He was clutching his side. Jack unfroze and lunged for the albino man as Iona calmly walked away. She picked her way through the chaos, walking further away from where Gilbert had told her to go, not caring if anyone saw her for her true gender. She had never actually been worried about being found out anyways. So what if the world knew who she actually was? That was Gilbert's problem. He'd been the one who'd told her to hide her identity that Christmas morning after she'd run away to join him. For all Iona cared, Arthur could jump out in front of her and acknowledge her as his sister.

Iona looked around the deck. There really weren't more than a handful of people actually clashing. Most of the members of Antonio's, Francis', and Gilbert's crews were scattered around the ship in groups, taking anything of any value. Even still, the scene on the main deck was messy. At the wheel, Francis was wrestling with a young man with vivid green eyes and messy blond hair. Iona knew immediately who it was, and felt tears stinging her eyes. She used her hood to wipe them away, effectively uncovering her face as her wild hair blew in tendrils around her in the cold night air. She must've been staring at the man for too long, because he suddenly turned and opened his mouth. She briefly made eye contact with him and mouthed the words, "Hello Arthur," before turning her back on him.

"Iona?" she heard him say right before Francis punched him in the jaw. All the Englishman saw of the ghost he was sure had been standing there was a retreating blue and silver cloak and a head of messy mahogany hair.

"What are you talking about, scone-eater? I didn't punch you that hard," Iona heard Francis taunt. She walked more quickly, as tears began welling up in her silver eyes again. She made it back to Gilbert's ship and slipped into the large nightshirt she slept in without crying, but only just barely. By the time she found Mircea, it was all she could do not to literally fall into her best friend's arms and sob for what seemed like an eternity. Instead, she slowly sunk into Mircea's hug, and let quiet tears run down her face.

"Shhh, it's okay, 'ona. I'm not sure what's going on, but everything will be okay," the Romanian whispered. Iona fell asleep curled up next to him, her face streaked with tears.

The rest of the crews returned later in various states of bloodiness and bruises, but all smiling confidently, many of them carrying large bags of their own loot. By that point, Gilbert had already found and carried Iona to her own bed after a brief explanation from Mircea, and had commanded the others to shut off the lights. The "Bad Touch Trio" of captains patched up their battered crews, lulled into a sense of security by their supposed victory.

**_The English Rose—_****March 3rd, 1890—01:00**

**Captain Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland**

"Mister Anan, ready the cannons. We have a French ship to fire upon. Be sure not to hit the others, though."


	7. Chapter 7: Master of Tides

_**La Liberté—**_** March 3rd, 1890—01:15**

**Captain Francis Bonnefoy**

_BOOM!_

Francis jolted awake just as Vash came scrambling into his room.

"_Merde! Qu'est-ce que dans ce putain de monde était-ce?_" Francis yelled in French.

"Sir! Kirkland's ship is firing upon us! We must evacuate immediately!" the Swiss man cried. Francis immediately started gathering up his most valuable items.

"My ship! My beautiful ship!"

"Sir, we have no time to waste! We must leave now!"

Francis gave his first mate a baleful stare until he was nearly knocked off his feet by another blast.

"Call Gilbert! He has room to spare!"

"We already have, sir! We sent out the distress call immediately upon the first blast. They've sent over their safety boats."

"Is everybody already off?"

"Yes sir! It's just us two left!"

Francis followed his first mate to a burning hole in the side of their ship where Gilbert waited for them in a floating safety boat.

"Get in! Get in! Now!" the Prussian yelled, helping the two men into the vessel. The moment they were both in safely, Gilbert sped the craft away from the ship while its captain watched sadly as his ship burned brightly in the night sky. Francis couldn't help but sob quietly. That ship had been his pride and joy, and he'd spent the past six years treating it with as much love and attention as he would a lover.

"My ship! My beautiful, beautiful ship!" he cried as they flew farther away from _La Liberté_.

"We will get you a new one, _mein Freund_. Do not worry," Gilbert yelled over the roar of the flames. He never took his eyes off of his own ship and the entirety of his crew standing on the deck. He used Embra and Mircea as a guide in the night, their eyes both shining with magic from under the shadows of their hoods as they tried to contain the inferno that was the French ship, but the continued barrage of bombs coming from Arthur's vessel proved too much for the two of them.

Gilbert docked the safety craft just in time for _La Liberté _to take one last bomb and then _**BABOOM!**_

The fire had hit the engine room, turning the ship into one giant bomb, exploding in the night sky like a miniature supernova. Francis screamed and fainted, and Gilbert ordered Berwald and Mathias to carry him off to the infirmary.

_**Der Adler—**_**01:45**

**Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt**

"Everybody, back to bed! We will welcome the crew of _La Liberté _in the morning when everybody is rested. It has been a very eventful night, but we must try to keep things as normal as possible, _Sie alle verstehen?_" Gilbert ordered.

The group dispersed, stealing anxious glances at Francis' crew.

"Now then, I apologise for not being able to offer you all beds tonight, but I'm not quite sure what we have available besides some blankets and pillows. You can sleep here in the entrance area for tonight, and we will get you taken care of in the morning. If you need anything, my first mate, James, and my second mate, Mircea, will be available. Their rooms are the first two on the right down the main hallway. For now, I will leave you four. _Gute nacht_."

With that, Gilbert turned and left, nodding to Embra and Mircea.

"Watch over them, okay? I trust Francis and his crew, but still, it wouldn't hurt to be careful. Will you two be okay to stay up?"

"Absolutely, Captain! Leave it to us!" Mircea said with a wild grin. He saluted his captain and nudged the Scotswoman next to him.

"Remember, Em, you're James to them. Don't let them figure it out," Gilbert hissed.

"Aye, Gil. I've got my hood," Embra said, her words slurring, making it even more difficult to understand her accent.

"Do I need to ask Berwald to make you two coffee before he goes to bed?"

"Nae. I'll be fine. You go sleep, Gilbert. You deserve it."

Gilbert nodded and glanced around, making sure the visitors were sound asleep before leaning in and giving Embra quick kiss.

He dragged himself to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and slumping against the oaken frame.

"_Mein Gott_, what in the world are we going to do?" he thought aloud, running a tired hand through messy white hair.

After quickly undressing and locking his door, he climbed into bed, a little disappointed that his and Embra's plans had fallen through and that he would have to spend the night alone. Sleep came soon after his head hit the pillow.

_**The Corazón—**_**07:00**

**Captain Antonio Carriedo**

Antonio awoke on something cold and hard, his back screaming, but his arms curled around something soft and warm. He opened one green eye and found himself face-to-face with a sleeping Italian woman with a scowl plastered on her face.

_Ay Dios Mio, I must be dreaming,_ he thought to himself. He brought the young woman closer and closed his eyes again, only to receive a swift punch to the gut.

"_Bastardo! _What the hell are you doing? Get your hands off of me! What the fuck?" Romana shrieked, making Antonio's ears ring.

"_Lo siento!_ I didn't do anything! I just woke up!" Antonio said, removing his arms and standing up. They had been curled up in a corner of his office, right underneath the window.

"What the hell were you doing with your arms around me, _bastardo_? Why did we sleep on the floor of your goddamn office?" the young woman yelled. Antonio racked his brain for an answer until the events of the night previous came rushing back to him.

_March 3rd, 01:45_

"_Romana, Feliciana! Are you two okay?" Antonio yelled, running into his office. The two Italian girls cowered in the corner, their faces illuminated by the fires burning on __La Liberté__. They cringed as another BOOM sounded, echoing throughout the night sky like thunder. Feliciana tried to comfort her sister, who was covering her ears._

"_Ve~ We're fine, Mister Antonio. What's going on?" Feliciana said quietly. She looked around nervously._

"_Captain Bonnefoy's ship has been attacked by Captain Kirkland. Francis and his crew have been evacuated to Captain Beilschmidt's ship," Antonio said, his face in shadow. _

"_Oh no! That's awful!" Feliciana cried. She might not know any of the pirates very well, but she figured that for a captain to lose his ship after such a successful raid must be a powerful blow to his pride. _

_Romana, still curled up in the corner, squealed as another bomb hit the French ship and another thunderous noise cut through the air. _

"_Feliciana, please go see if my men need food or drinks right now. That's the best way for you to help at the moment. I'll take care of your hermana," Antonio said. Feliciana nodded and scampered out the door. _

"_Shhh, Roma, it's okay. They're not firing on us. We're safe. The bombs are nowhere near us, vale?" Antonio said softly. He kneeled beside the older Italian girl and gathered her in his arms, much as he had done every time there was a storm in the past three months. Romana simply nodded, curling herself further into the Spaniard's arms. She hated that he knew she was this weak. She hated him, yet every time there was even a hint of thunder, or some other noise like it, she ran straight to him because he reminded her of her Nonno. _

_Soon enough, the two of them drifted to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms as Francis' ship burned._

"You fell asleep in my arms, Roma! You were scared by the bombs!" Antonio said with a smile. Romana turned a vivid shade of red.

"Nobody ever hears of this, you got that?" she hissed.

"Yes ma'am!"

Antonio looked out the window and saw only Gilbert's ship flying half a mile away from them. He reached for the intercom and dialed the radio room where he knew Heracles was already up and working, communicating with Gilbert's radioman, Daniel.

"Heracles, patch me through to Captain Beilschmidt, and ask him to include Captain Bonnefoy in this conversation. And have Toris bring up two cups of strong coffee to my office," the Spaniard said into the mouthpiece.

"Roma, why don't you go shower and change, then join me for some _café_? You might feel better after that," he said. Romana nodded, but not before muttering, "_Bastardo_," under her breath. Antonio smiled softly.

"Sir, are you ready for me to patch _Der Adler_ through?" came a voice over the intercom.

"Yes. I'm ready, Heracles."

_**Der Adler—**_**Twenty Minutes Later**

**Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt**

"So what should we do? I don't have enough room on my ship for all five of them. I can only take about two. Do you have room, Toni?"

"I can see what I can do, _amigos_. We took on two new crew members a few months ago, and I'm not sure, but we might have given them our last free room, but I can certainly check."

"_Oh, c'est affreux! _My poor ship!" Francis cried. The French man sniffed and wiped away a tear.

"It will be okay, Francis. We'll find you a new ship, and it will be even better than your old one!" Antonio said. Gilbert glared at the speaker of the radio, hoping that Toni could feel it.

"I don't want a new ship! I just want my beautiful girl!" Francis sobbed. Gilbert gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Anyways, I will go check the situation on my ship. We should stay on our guards, all of us. Who knows what Kirkland is planning. I will radio back once I have an answer, _sí_? Until then, my friends."

The transmission ended, leaving Gilbert and Francis with static.

_**The English Rose—**_**08:00**

**Captain Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland**

"I'd say that went swimmingly, wouldn't you, Mister Honda?" Arthur said, leaning back in his chair with his feet resting on top of his mahogany desk.

"Yes sir, Arthur-san, though we did not escape injuries of our own. Lukas-san is very weak, and your cousin, Jack, has a broken arm. Those are the two worst cases, everyone else is just bruised or has small cuts, but nothing that we cannot take care of. However, Miss Jones has not come out yet, and she's usually awake by this time," Kiku said in his soft way.

"Tell Lukas that I wish to speak to him tonight, after he's gotten some rest. I want to hear about the two individuals he fought with last night. As for Miss Jones, I'd say leave her be for now. She's probably still trying to get over all of the excitement of last night."

"Yes sir."

"Oh, and Mister Honda?"

"Yes, Arthur-san?"

"Are we prepared for our real counterattack?"

"Yes, Arthur-san."

"Good. We give them hell in seventy-two hours. Now go see what the crew needs."

The Japanese man left, and Arthur went about cleaning up his office, very glad he kept no personal effects in the room. He paused for a moment and pulled out a small photograph from the inside pocket of his jacket. A much younger version of himself smiled back at Arthur, surrounded by all five of his older siblings, as well as his parents. The picture had been taken when he was ten, and the older pair of twins were only thirteen.

_God, I miss those days_, he thought sadly.

"There's no use living in the past, Artie-lad," he could almost hear Alistair say in that wise tone of his.

"We needed you, Alistair, and you left us at the worst time possible," Arthur whispered, running his thumb over his eldest brother's smiling face, letting a single tear fall. He composed himself and put the photo back into his pocket.

"Can't let the crew see me or my office in such a state, not when we've got an attack to prepare for," he muttered.


	8. Chapter 8: An Téad a Cheanglaíonn Orainn

_**The English Rose—**_**March 3rd, 1890—09:30**

**Amelia F. Jones**

"Arthur! Open up!" Amelia yelled, measuring up the door to figure out how hard she would have to kick to open it.

"What is it, you silly woman?" the Englishman snapped.

"Just open the damn door! I wanna talk to you!"

Amelia heard him sigh and push back his chair. A few seconds later, the door opened.

"What do you want? And what happened to your face?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about! I got this cut last night, and Stefan said you could heal it for me. Oh, and I also got this nasty slash in my side that I'd like for you to look at, if it's not too outside of your English morals."

Arthur hesitated a moment, but looked at the cut on her forehead again as a look of guilt crossed his face.

"Alright, come in. Let's take care of that cut first, then I'll look at your side. Here, sit on the desk," Arthur said, ushering the American over to his beautiful mahogany desk. She sat on top of it and lowered her head so that Arthur could better access the wound.

"So how is it, Doc?" Amelia chuckled.

"Hold still," Arthur said sharply. Amelia looked a little wounded by his short reply, a look which did not escape Arthur's notice.

"Sorry. I just need you to hold still while I assess how bad this is," Arthur corrected with a softer tone. Amelia winced as he lightly touched the small cut on her head, but immediately relaxed as she felt the pain ebb away.

"There we go. All healed. Now, lie down on the couch over there, and..."

"And what?"

Arthur turned a brilliant shade of red.

_I'm pretty sure he's seen me in nothing but my underwear in the six months I've been on this ship, yet he's blushing at the thought of me uncovering just my side? I don't get this guy, but he's kinda a prude. It's a little cute_, the American woman thought to herself. She went over and reclined on the red velvet couch, pulling up her shirt just enough for Arthur to see the wicked-looking wound on her midsection.

"Good God, woman! How the bloody hell are you still alive?" Arthur exclaimed.

"Uhhh... I'm really not sure. I think it's 'cause I'm the hero, and the hero has to withstand injuries that would kill a normal person!" Amelia said.

"Excuse me? Come again?" Arthur said, looking at her in disbelief.

"I'm the hero!" Amelia yelled, pumping a fist in the air, nearly hitting Arthur in the nose. The Englishman let out an exasperated noise and bent down to look at the slash, which spanned from one side of her torso to the other. Arthur looked worried.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Amelia asked, a hint of fear creeping into her voice.

"I'm afraid this is out of my league, Miss Jones. I can't heal it, or at least, not by myself, and Lukas is too weak right now to be of much help. The most I can do is stitch it up and keep an eye on it. You should thank the good Lord that you're even still alive. Stay here while I go get a medical kit."

Amelia stared up at the ceiling, listening to Arthur's retreating steps, then listening as they came back.

"Okay, this may sting a little, but just bear with me," Arthur said reassuringly. Amelia nodded, but was not prepared for the feeling of the needle piercing the already tender skin around the wound in her abdomen. A small squeak escaped, and she had to bite her lip to stem the tears pricking her eyes.

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Can I hold your hand while you do this?"

"I would say yes, but I need both hands for this. You can hold onto my leg, if that would help you."

Amelia gave another small nod, and placed a hand right above Arthur's knee. She would occasionally dig her nails into his skin through the fabric of his trousers, and the actions were usually accompanied by a hiss or squeal or some other pained noise. When she wasn't focused on the pain, Amelia became very aware of the fact that Arthur was bent very low, and his face was very close to her skin. The young woman felt her heart leap and race a little, especially when, a few times, his lips actually brushed across her stomach in his efforts to be as precise as possible. The American woman occupied herself with trying to memorise Arthur's face, spending more than a few minutes trying to figure out a good way to describe the colour of his eyes, or come up with what he would look like without those eyebrows of his. She decided that he would look bad without them.

_Is it bad that I want to know what it'd be like to kiss him? He'd probably yell at me. Hell, he'd probably throw me off this ship and feed me to the Russians. I wouldn't last a second, not if the stories I've heard are true. I really hope we never run into them, especially not their top general. What was that guy's name again? Ignatious? Ian? Oh, right, Ivan. General Ivan Braginsky. What was I thinking about? I wonder if Arthur's a good kisser. Should I try to find out? Probably not while he's sewing me back together_, Amelia thought during one such moment when the pain ebbed a little. She decided that she did **not **enjoy getting stitches.

Arthur had her turn on her side so that he could continue stitching up the wound.

After a few more minutes, Arthur finally tied off the thread and leaned back, admiring his handiwork.

"Well? What's the deal, Captain Doctor? Am I on bed rest? Will you be my nurse?" Amelia said, wiggling her eyebrows jokingly. Arthur didn't seem to be fazed by her humour.

"I'd like to keep an eye on that, if you don't mind. You're free to roam the ship as usual, but please go easy on yourself. Don't go too wild, Miss Jones," Arthur said.

"Define 'wild.'"

"You know what I meant, you silly girl."

Amelia stuck out her bottom lip.

"You don't have to be mean, Arthur," she said, grabbing the back of the couch to help her sit up.

"I wouldn't do that," Arthur warned, but Amelia ignored him.

She shrieked in pain and fell back, golden hair splaying around her head like a halo on the couch.

"I told you. You should stay here for a little while."

"Only if you stay as well. I'd feel weird sitting in your office alone."

**Captain Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland**

Arthur smiled and pulled a nearby chair over.

_She's actually somewhat attractive when she doesn't run her mouth so much_, Arthur mused. It was a thought that crossed his mind often. His eyes glanced over the American woman's form, noting every curve and plane of her body. He felt entirely too hot, as though even looking at her sent flames running through him. She was vulnerable and at his mercy, and hell, he was the bloody captain.

"_Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland, behave!" a familiar female's voice rang in his head. _Suddenly, he was thirteen again, and his elder sister had just caught him in the process of undressing a local merchant's daughter.

"_I thought Mother and I taught you better! Just because Mum and Dad are off in Paris does not mean you get to behave like some common street rat! You should thank God that I was the one who barged in on you, and not Alistair! Now, you will help this nice young lady back into all of her clothing without so much as a single lewd glance, and then you will apologise to her, and then, you will escort her to the door. I will make sure she arrives home safely. Are we at an understanding?" Iona said, her grey eyes flashing dangerously. _

"_Yes, Embra," thirteen-year old Arthur mumbled. He hated his sister sometimes, especially when their parents were out of town and the older set of twins was in charge. _

"Hey, Arthur? You alright there, buddy?" Amelia said, waving a hand in front of Arthur's face. He snapped out of his reverie.

"What? Oh, sorry. Caught up in a memory," he said.

"Of what?"

Arthur looked away, unsure of if he should tell the American woman anything about his past, let alone anything about his family.

"My sister," he finally said coldly. Amelia's face contorted into a mask of physical pain, but Arthur could also see that his tone had hurt her.

"Tell me about it," Amelia demanded, losing the mask of pain and replacing it with a mask of determination. Arthur felt his face flush again, this time taken aback by her tone.

"Excuse me?" Arthur said incredulously.

"Tell me about the memory! I've been on your ship for months, and I'm still not sure if you're actually human!" Amelia exclaimed with a snort, as though Arthur's surprise was completely unfounded.

"It's nothing. Just a silly memory."

"Don't care. I wanna know what made you into the volatile little man you are today," Amelia said, sticking her tongue out at him, only to wince in pain.

Arthur glared at her, wondering if he should just go ahead and appease the young woman.

"Ugh, fine. I was just remembering the time my sister walked in on me undressing one of the local girls while my parents were on holiday. My sister, who was usually a fairly gentle person, looked like she was going to murder me. I was only thirteen, so I didn't quite yet understand why my actions were so bad. All I wanted to do was fuck the girl and satisfy my more...animal urges, but my sister, who was sixteen, nearly seventeen at the time, gave me such a royal chewing out that my ears were ringing for days," Arthur said before he could stop himself. It had been much too long since he'd shared any of his memories with anyone.

"She sounds like an incredible person."

"She wasn't," Arthur spat. Amelia looked at him in surprise, and Arthur realised that he would have to explain himself.

"She'd be the first to tell you that. My brothers and I hated her sometimes. There were just some times when she took her responsibilities a bit too seriously. She basically raised me and my four brothers, including Alistair, who was her twin. My parents were always off on holiday or busy with important meetings, so my older siblings shouldered the burden of making sure I turned out alright," Arthur laughed. He gave Amelia a genuine smile, feeling a sense of happiness about getting memories of his past life off of his chest.

"You don't talk about her much. I mean, you don't talk about any of your siblings very much, but I think I've only heard you mention her once. What happened?"

Arthur's face immediately fell.

"She abandoned us. The last time I saw her was Christmas Eve, five years ago. Life finally seemed to be looking up for all of us, and she went and she left us without so much as an explanation or anything except a note that read, 'En Ma Fin Est Mon Commencement,'" he growled.

"That's awful, Arthur. I'm so sorry. It must've really affected you," Amelia gasped.

"Well, that, coupled with the death of my parents six months earlier, and Alistair's death ten days before she ran away. I still don't know why she did it, nor why she chose Christmas morning of all times to do so. I still have that note. The message was the same one on Alistair's tombstone. The six of us always used it as a code for when we were leaving the house for a prolonged period of time, since we all attended different boarding schools. Again, she wasn't incredible. She was—is— human like the rest of us, and I absolutely hate her," Arthur said, looking at a point on the couch beyond Amelia's head.

Amelia reached up and tried to pat him on the shoulder, but let out a small squeak and let her arm flop back down.

"What's her name?" Amelia said quietly.

"Iona," Arthur replied. Silence hung about them for a bit.

"How did Alistair die?" Amelia asked suddenly.

Arthur looked down at the ground, his smile erased from his face. While he was actually enjoying sharing pieces of his life with Amelia, he wasn't quite willing to go that far, and he hoped that his body language conveyed as much.

"I think that's enough of my life story for right now. What I want to know, and what I've been meaning to ask you for three months now is, how the hell did you end up raiding my family home? And how did you know whose home it was?" Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I wanted to prove that I was worth the military's time, so I decided to search the home of the Sky Privateer Arthur Mackenzie-Kirkland—your home—because I knew that the US military would be impressed," Amelia grinned proudly.

"Come again?" Arthur wasn't entirely sure how to take her explanation.

"I wanted to join the Air Force, but they wouldn't let me, so I was going to ransack your home and gather intelligence on you to give to the higher ups. I walked in the door, started looking around the kitchen, and that's when you and your thugs attacked," Amelia said.

"You just randomly decided you were going to join the military?" Part of him didn't doubt her story, while the other part wondered at how she hadn't already been sent to an asylum for all of her grand ideas.

"Well, I trained for years, taught myself how to shoot various guns and do close combat and all that shit, but they refused to even consider me because I was a woman." Amelia chewed on her lip, looking up at Arthur searchingly.

"You really wanted to join, didn't you? What made you decide to do that?" the Englishman finally said with a slight smile.

"My father was a military man, and he was my role model growing up. My mom was very quiet and I didn't see her very much because she was always ill. To me, it was natural to want to go join the military, so I taught myself everything I needed to know," Amelia replied with a very small shrug. She looked almost…relieved at Arthur's smile.

"Once you're all healed, remind me to see how good you are with a gun. I might consider allowing you to actually fight," Arthur said in his captain's voice.

"I'll hold you to it," Amelia said, attempting to punch him on the arm playfully. Arthur just shook his head at her antics, finding that she was somewhat endearing at the moment.

"Anyways, I should probably check on the rest of the crew, and possibly go get myself a cuppa. You should try to get some rest, even if it does feel 'weird' being in here alone."

Amelia nodded and then shivered slightly.

"Are you cold, Miss Jones?"

"A little. This ship can be kinda drafty," Amelia said softly.

Wordlessly, Arthur removed his jacket and laid it across the American.

"Sleep well, Amelia," Arthur said. He turned off the lights and shut the door quietly, leaving Amelia to drift off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9: Parsley, Sage

_**Der Adler—**_**March 4th, 1890—12:00**

**Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt**

Gilbert watched the landscape below them as they flew over the German countryside, feeling a sense of peace at being in familiar air. His brows knit together as they passed a large airbase swarming with activity.

"_Verdammt_," he swore under his breath at the sight. He'd been hearing more and more reports of the Russians encroaching on Germany's neighbours, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. The base teeming with soldiers and pilots and other personnel reminded him of the growing threat, and made his blood boil at how the other European countries were doing nothing to stop the Commies.

A knock on the door broke him from his daze.

"Come in!" he called, not bothering to take his eyes off of the scene below his window.

"Thought you might like a drink, Gil," Embra said, placing a large glass on the desk. Gilbert turned to face her.

She looked tired, worn thin by the added five members they were taking care of.

"Please, Em, sit. You need to," Gilbert said, sounding much more forceful than he meant to.

"Nae. I have to get back to tending to Francis' first mate. The Swiss man looks like a piece of Swiss cheese with all of the cuts and holes he has in him. Have you and Antonio decided how you're going to split up Francis and his men? We can't keep feeding all five of them, plus all six of us, nor can we keep doing this whole 'bed rotation' shite."

"We'll figure something out soon, Embra. I promise."

Embra nodded, and turned to leave.

"Wait," Gilbert said, looking at her with hopeful eyes. In the past, this look would earn him at least thirty minutes of Embra's time, plenty for what he had in mind. Now, however, she just shook her head.

"I really can't. I just wanted to give that to you. I'll come by later, though, if I'm free."

With that, she was gone.

"Embra..._Mein Gott_, what has happened to us?"

He'd claimed her as his the moment she agreed to be his first mate, and that cold Christmas night had been the best of his young life. He'd gotten away with stealing a ship and managed to bed his childhood crush, all in one day. She was his secret, and he kept her very close to his chest, but recently, it felt like she'd been drawing away, and doing more and more to escape his hold. The past two months, especially, had begun to feel horribly distant to the Prussian. She seemed to jump at any opportunity to drop the charade of being male, and more than once, Gilbert had caught her roaming the hallways wearing a dress. Ever since he and the other two captains had started planning to attack Arthur Kirkland, Embra had made her visits with Gilbert fewer and farther between, keeping them much more professional and much less personal. After five years of being together, he could feel the relationship unraveling, down to nothing more than a captain and his first mate.

_It's all your fault, dummkopf. You've been the one forcing her to parade around as a guy, just so you can keep her all to yourself. And then, you go and top it all off by attacking her little brother, just to prove a point to her? Just to prove to her that you're more worth her attention than her guilt over her family, you went and suggested to the other two that you should beat Kirkland within an inch of his life. Gott, you're a fool. That stupid Romanian kid has a better relationship with your girlfriend than you do, Gilbert. You're just as bad as Francis, _he fumed.

**14:00**

**First Mate Iona Margaret "Embra" Kirkland-Mackenzie**

"I'm afraid there's not much more I can do for now. I've healed up as many of his wounds as I could, but he's still in very serious condition, and getting weaker by the moment. I'm almost amazed that he's held on as long as he has. I really think we should land and take him to a hospital," Iona said, looking concerned. Her eyes were covered by a cap, knowing that Francis would recognise her otherwise. They stood by Vash's bedside, examining the pale Swiss man.

"We cannot afford to do that, James. Toni, Gilbert, and I are wanted men. If we were to land anywhere, we'd all be executed on sight for piracy, _mon ami_. There must be something else you can do," Francis said, his expression begging her to miraculously cure Vash.

"There isn't. If there was, I would've tried it already, Mister Bonnefoy. If we want to have even a small shard of hope for your mate here, we must take him to a hospital, or something. My magic alone isn't strong enough to heal him entirely, and Mircea's used too much energy already today. We're stretched thin," the Scotswoman said. A glance over at Mircea confirmed her statement; he looked pale, and had dark circles under his burgundy eyes. Iona almost worried that he was going to pass out from exhaustion then and there.

Francis slumped down into a nearby chair and buried his face in his hands.

"_Mon Dieu_," he groaned, "we are being tested."

Iona placed a comforting hand on the Frenchman's shoulder before turning towards the door.

"We'll take our leave for now, and you should most likely do the same. One of our men will watch over him so that if he wakes up, there will be someone to come find me and Mircea. In the meantime, I suggest you speak with Captain Beilschmidt. You need to make a decision soon," she said. Francis nodded in understanding as Iona and Mircea left.

Once they were out of the makeshift infirmary, Mircea yawned loudly, stretching his arms high above his head.

"I don't know about you, but I could sleep for the rest of the month!" he announced with a tired grin. Iona smiled slightly at her friend.

"I couldn't agree with you more, Mir. All I want to do right now is curl up on the top deck and nap."

"Well, then, why don't we? It's a nice enough day, and everybody else is busy doing their own things."

Iona thought for a moment, considering Mircea's suggestion. She'd promised Gilbert that she'd see him if she had any free time, but really, her heart wasn't in it, and honestly hadn't been for as long as she'd been his girlfriend. Gilbert had been an anchor, an excuse for her to escape, and she had fooled herself into thinking that she felt the same way for Gilbert for the past five years, but recently had reached the point where she couldn't continue lying to herself. She had always known that Gilbert had an impulsive, somewhat jealous side to him. It came along with his inflated ego, and it had always been somewhat endearing, but never endearing enough that she saw him in that light. Now, it was just beginning to scare her a little, especially since she knew it had been the driving force behind the attack on Arthur's ship. She loved Gilbert, she really, truly did, but she didn't love him the same way he loved her. He was a good friend, but nothing more than that. Iona had already begun planning out what she was going to say when she finally did get up enough courage to break things off with the Prussian.

"Hello-o-o, Iona?" Mircea said, snapping Iona out of her thoughts. The Romanian man waved a gloved hand in front of her face.

"Sorry, I was thinking," she said, pushing his hand away from her before he accidentally hit her.

"So? Do you want to go hang out on the top deck?" Mircea asked with a fanged smile.

"Mmmm... Sure, why not? I'll go grab a blanket and some pillows from my room," Iona replied.

"Okay! Meet you up there in ten!"

Before Iona could say anything else, Mircea was halfway down the hall, spurred on by a second wind of energy, which she knew wouldn't last very long.

**14:45**

**Alexandru Mircea Bălan**

"_Ai de gând să Scarborough Fair?_" Mircea sang, trying to fit the words of his language into the tune of the folk song with a fair bit of success, though the song still felt off. He heard someone come up the stairs and drop some items on the deck, but chose to continue watching the German countryside fly by them.

"I don't think 'Scarborough Fair' was meant to be sung in Romanian, Mircea. You might just want to give up on that endeavour," Iona laughed from behind him. Mircea spun around and lit up with a smile as he was greeted with the sight of his best friend wearing a dress. He quickly replaced the idiotic grin with a smirk.

"Well, what do you suggest I do instead?" he countered. The redhead walked over to join him beside the railing.

"I think you should sing it in English. It's prettier like that, anyway."

"Is that so?"

"Aye, it is."

Mircea thought for a moment.

"Then sing it for me," he taunted. Iona's grey eyes sparkled mischievously, and Mircea knew she'd taken the bait.

"_Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Remember me to one who lives there. He once was a true love of mine_," the Scotswoman sang. She paused, and Mircea knew that was his signal to actually start the song since it began with the stanzas traditionally sung by the male partner. Once his part had finished, Iona picked up, singing the woman's responses to her lover's requests. Finally, they both repeated, "_Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme; Remember me to one who lives there. She [He] once was a true love of mine_."

They sat in silence for a few moments while Mircea pondered the meaning of the song before ultimately giving up.

"What does it mean?" he asked, helping Iona spread out her comforter on the deck.

"Come again?" the redhead laughed.

"What's the song about?" Mircea clarified, plopping down a pillow at one end of the blanket. Iona chuckled, doing the same, and looked up at the sky.

"Well, the way Mum always explained it to me, it's about the impossible things we do for love. When was the last time you ever saw someone make a shirt without any seams or needlework?"

"Umm...never. I don't think that's possible."

"Exactly. So, when the guy asks his lover to make him a 'cambric shirt without the seams or needlework,' he's asking her to do the impossible for love. Same goes for the girl and her requests. Think about it: if you had a 'true love,' wouldn't you go to the ends of the earth for them, even when what they asked of you was basically impossible?" Iona said. She was smiling broadly at him, and Mircea felt his heart race a little.

The two of them sat down on their makeshift nest as Mircea continued to think about what Iona had said. While he was lost in thought, he felt Iona lie down next to him.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me just yet!" he said, poking his companion.

"But I'm tired," Iona groaned. Mircea looked over at her, smiling.

"Doesn't matter. You're not allowed to go to sleep until I say you are!" Mircea teased, taking a strand of mahogany hair in his hand as he bent down until he was inches from her face.

"Weren't you about to fall asleep on your feet twenty minutes ago?" Iona said.

"Yeah, but now I feel awake! Come on! It's been forever since we got to just hang out! Tell me a story or something!" the Romanian whined, tugging on the piece of hair. Iona sighed and opened her eyes, bringing her face a little closer to his.

"And what do I get in return?" she said with a smirk, but Mircea wasn't focusing on her words anymore. Instead, he became hyperaware of her proximity and the faint smell of Argan oil. He noticed how her grey eyes had flecks of light green around the pupils, and how her eyebrows, unlike her brother's, were thin and nicely shaped. He especially noticed just how close her lips were to his.

_No, Mircea, stop this. She's not yours. Stand down, you **prost**,_ he mentally scolded.

"How about my eternal friendship?" he finally replied, sitting back up.

"I thought I already had that."

"You do, but it doesn't hurt to reinforce it!"

"What sort of story?"

"I don't know! Something good!"

"I'll make you a deal: Today, we sleep. The next time we have a chance like this, I'll tell you a story. Sound good?" Iona said, just as Mircea gave an especially large yawn. All of his energy from moments before was gone, and suddenly, the pillow next to Iona's looked very inviting.

"Fine. But you have to promise," he said. Iona smiled and nodded.

"Aye, I promise," she replied softly.

"Good," Mircea said, laying down next to her.

A cold wind blew, and Mircea saw Iona shiver a little. He scooted closer to her, and tentatively put an arm around her waist. The redhead rolled over so that she was flush against him, and once both of them had gotten comfortable, Mircea closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

"_Mircea?" a small voice said through the darkness._

Mircea found himself back in Bucharest in the old, broken-down house he had once called home.

"_What is it, Stefan? What's wrong?" he replied._

"_Can I come sleep with you?" his brother asked._

"_Of course, frate, but why?"_

"_It's cold and scary in here," the little boy squeaked. Mircea heard the sound of his two year old half-brother throwing off his thin blankets, and saw the little boy pad across the dark room over to where he slept. The child snuggled up against him, falling back asleep almost instantly. _

"_Don't worry, Stefan. I'm here," he whispered into his brother's wild mop of hair. _

**16:00**

**Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt**

Gilbert walked up to the top deck, hoping to escape the crush of humanity that was now his ship. Instead, he was greeted by a sight that made his heart fall through the floor. Embra was curled up in Mircea's arms, wearing a dress and a pair of diamond studded hair combs, and looking happier and more at peace than she had in years.

"_Gilbert, du Idiot. Das ist deine Schuld_," he hissed, going back down the stairs.

* * *

**Hello Everybody! It's been a while since I did one of these, but this chapter has a few things I needed to include. First of all, those of you who have been following this story since the beginning will have noticed that our dear Romanian had his name changed. Yes, that was intentional. Second, I swear, all of these questions you might be asking about various character backstories will be answered...eventually. Don't worry! There's a method to the madness! Anywho, the song that Embra and Mircea are singing is an old English folksong called "Scarborough Fair" I looked all over YouTube and whatnot and couldn't find a full duet version, so instead, I'll leave you guys with a link to my favourite version which is done by Celtic Woman. It only gives a sampling of the song, and only has four verses, but oh well. It's not difficult to imagine what the rest of the song sounds like once you hear one or two verses. I'll also leave a link to the Wikipedia page about the song, in case any of you were curious about that. I hope you all have been enjoying this story! Don't forget to leave a review and spread the word about it to your friends!  
**

**As one extra note, Gilbert's line at the very end translates to: "Gilbert, you idiot. This is your fault"**

**Para Siempre,**

**La Reina Escocia**

** www. youtube watch?v=lm8mhqt_Dag**

**and **

** en. wikipedia wiki/ Scarborough_Fair_(ballad)**


	10. Chapter 10: Una Sera nel Cielo

_**The Corazón— March**_** 4th, 1890— 18:45**

**Feliciana Vargas**

"_Ve, _Mister Toris, where do you come from?" Feliciana asked as she stirred a pot of vegetable soup.

"Who, me?" the man said, pointing to himself.

"Of course! Nobody else is down here!" the girl said, flashing a bright smile. Toris blushed and put down his knife, wiping his hands on the apron he wore.

"Well, I come from Lithuan—"

"I know that! Tell me about your city! Are there lots of cute boys? How'd you end up on this smelly ship? Was your city really bad or something?"

"Oh! I come from the capital city, Vilnius! It's a nice place, and the people are all very kind. We have lots of history, and our culture is very interesting, too. I can tell you lots of stories, like the one about the wolf and—"

Toris continued to babble, but after a while, Feliciana tuned him out, deciding that since he made no mention of the attractiveness of his people, nor did he talk about food, she wasn't particularly interested.

"I'm going to let the soup simmer for a little bit, okay? I think I'll go see what everybody else is up to. _Ve~ _Maybe _sorella_ is free to play!" Feliciana said. Toris, who had finished rambling about his home by that point, nodded and went back to chopping up pieces of meat.

Feliciana removed her apron, hanging it on a nearby peg, which Viktor swore upside-down and backwards was the leg of a pirate captain they'd vanquished in the first few months of Antonio's captaincy, and skipped out of the galley and up the stairs.

She poked her head inside the door of the room she shared with Romana, but found it empty. The Italian girl shrugged.

"I guess she's still with Captain Toni. I'm glad that they're getting along now!" she said. She continued to skip merrily down the halls, humming as she went. Finally, she came to the bridge, just in time for Ludwig to open the door and step out. Feliciana slammed into him with a yelp before falling to the ground.

"Oh! Ludwig! I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Please forgive me!" she cried, working herself up into a flurry of emotions. Ludwig looked at her with what she had learned was his expression of surprise.

"I'm fine, Feliciana, but I'm wondering if you are," the German man replied, offering the young woman a hand. She took it daintily and he pulled her up.

"What have you been up to today, Ludwig?" Feliciana asked, looking at him with large amber eyes.

"Hmph. Not much. I've been helping Abel since he is still recovering. We're waiting for orders from Captain Carriedo about taking on some of Bonnefoy's crew, but otherwise, we're just coasting for now. I was on my way to my quarters to prepare for dinner," Ludwig said, regaining his stoic composure.

"You look perfectly fine to me! What do you have to do to prepare for dinner?" Feliciana chirped, taking hold of one of Ludwig's arms. He turned red, but said nothing.

"Well, I, uh, I just like to have some time to myself before eating," he stammered after a few seconds of pained silence, making Feliciana giggle.

"Can I join you?" she said pleadingly. Ludwig blushed even darker as the girl tightened her grip on his arm.

"How about, instead, we just go to the observation room, _ja_? The sun should be setting soon, and I'm sure it's a lovely view," Ludwig said with an awkward smile.

Feliciana's face lit up, and she practically dragged Ludwig down the stairs to the lowest level of the ship.

The entire room was a giant window, offering a complete panoramic view of the German countryside. Feliciana found herself spending the better part of her days curled up in the middle of the room with a blanket and some pillows, watching the landscape fly by, and letting her imagination go wherever it wished.

She danced around, laughing and smiling while Ludwig simply stood in the doorway and watched, looking awkward and out of place, as though he had no idea what to do with the young Italian woman.

"_Ve~ _It's so beautiful, Ludwig! Don't you just love it in here?" Feliciana said. Ludwig nodded, and gave a grunt of affirmation. She stopped twirling and ran over to one of the walls, occasionally pressing her face to the glass when she wasn't moving about the room. She sang in Italian for a few minutes, and every time she turned to face her companion, she was smiling widely.

Suddenly, she stopped singing and froze. Ludwig walked over, stopping a few feet behind her, curious as to why she had stopped her song.

"_Was ist es_?" he said, more to himself than to the girl, trying to figure out what she was looking at.

"There are soldiers down there! Big, scary ones!"

Ludwig looked at her in exasperation.

"They're probably just German troops doing some exercises. It's really not a big deal," he said, waving her off. Suddenly, Feliciana turned, closed the gap between them, and buried her face in his chest, her arms automatically going around his midsection like a vice. Ludwig stiffened, alarmed at her sudden hug, and completely unsure of what to do.

"No, no, no! I don't think those are Germans! I've seen German troops before, and those men down there are not German! Plus, why would they be setting fire to their own homeland?" she cried into his shirt.

"What?" he yelled. Feliciana extricated herself from him, and pointed to the soldiers, which Ludwig could now clearly see. She was right: those men were most definitely not German.

"_Scheiße_," he swore under his breath.

"Ludwig, they're scary," Feliciana cried, shivering and returning to his arms. Ludwig stood there, stunned, and unconsciously returned Feliciana's hug.

"_Ja_," he whispered, "they're terrible."

**19:20**

**Romana Vargas**

Romana had to admit, spending the past two days shadowing the Spanish bastard really had been almost...fun. Once she had cleaned herself up and gotten strong Spanish coffee in her system, Antonio had shown her around the ship, teaching her how to check all of the various gauges that kept them afloat, and how to read both a digital map as well as traditional one, taught her how to steer the ship, and even let her sit in on his and Ludwig's conversation with the other two captains. After three months on this damned ship, she was finally being accepted as part of the crew.

She was loathe to say as much, but she really had enjoyed her time, despite the fact that she was surrounded by filthy pirates. Antonio reminded her of a child, obnoxious but sweet...though mainly obnoxious.

"Romana! Your face is all red again! What's got you blushing, _mi pequeña tomate_?" Antonio asked as they walked down towards the galley for dinner.

"I told you, _bastardo_, that if you called me that one more time, I would castrate you as slowly and painfully as possible. And I'm not blushing! This ship is just really warm!" Romana yelled, punching him on the arm.

"Ow! Roma! That hurt!" the Spaniard whined, rubbing his arm.

"You deserved it, idiot," she mumbled. They made their way into the bustling galley where Toris was setting out plates and bowls for everyone while Viktor and Heracles sat at the table and argued about the Greek economy and its overall effect on the broader European economy. Ludwig sat with a dull look on his face, and Feliciana chattered away about the beautiful sunset. Nearby, Abel puffed away on his pipe, waiting for the meal to be served.

"_Kapitane!_ There you are! We were beginning to worry about you—ah! Miss Vargas! I didn't see you there!" Viktor called, waving the two of them over.

"_Lo siento, _Viktor! I was just showing Roma my maps! How is everybody?" Antonio said jovially, taking Romana's hand and tugging her over to the table.

"Can't complain. Any word from Beilschmidt and Bonnefoy?" Heracles said quietly.

Antonio's face immediately went stony.

"I was going to tell everyone this during dinner, but we're landing in Berlin the day after tomorrow. Francis' first mate is very badly injured, and needs medical attention _inmediatamente_, so they're sending a landing party ahead tomorrow, and the rest of us will follow the next day," he said to the now quiet room.

"You're kidding me, right? The German authorities will string us up before we can even step off of the ships," Abel growled.

"Sadly, my friends, no, I'm not kidding. Gilbert is sending his first mate, James, along with his navigator, Mathias. They won't be recognised by the authorities and will be able to get him into the hospital quickly and safely. We'll wait for their signal, and then find a place to stay. We attacked Kirkland's ship together, and we'll stand together until all of us are stable," Antonio said.

Even though Romana already knew about this, she felt a pit in her stomach over the idea. One glance over at Ludwig confirmed that he too felt some unease, having been there for the planning of the mission.

"I need one of you to join the delegation, to ensure that they have another layer of protection. James will contact us later tonight with the cover story, but someone needs to go with them," Antonio continued.

The group continued to sit in cold silence, pondering Antonio's words, and Lovina fidgeted with her dress.

"I'll go, Captain," Viktor said solemnly.

"_Gracias, amigo,_" Antonio said.

"Mister Antonio, are we going to eat soon? I'm hungry!" Feliciana interjected, earning a facepalm from her sister.

_I love my sister, but she really is so oblivious sometimes. It's a wonder her head doesn't just float away,_ Romana thought to herself. Antonio took her hand and seated her next to him as Toris ladled soup into her bowl and dropped a piece of meat onto her plate.

"Just in time, Feliciana! Let's eat!" Antonio laughed, breaking the tension in the room. Dinner passed in silence as the ravenous crew thought about Antonio's news, and enjoyed the combined culinary talents of Toris and Feliciana. Afterwards, everybody drifted off towards their rooms, while Viktor, Romana, and Antonio adjourned to the captain's office to make contact with Gilbert.

After one very long hour of planning, they signed off, and Viktor went to the quarters he shared with Heracles, escorted by Romana after Antonio told him he 'needed a woman's help with packing.' There, he gathered a small bag with things he would need for his stay in Berlin, pausing only momentarily to look at a picture of a younger version of him standing arm-in-arm with a red-eyed youth with strawberry blond hair. At their feet sat a smaller boy with deep brown hair sticking out erratically, two small tufts of hair poking out the sides of his head.

_**The English Rose—23:30**_

**Captain Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland**

Arthur yawned, taking off his shirt as quietly as possible, trying his best not to disturb the American woman sleeping on the other side of his bed, curled up in a nightgown he had procured for her. His body was exhausted simply from being a captain, and he still hadn't had much chance to speak with Lukas about his attackers, but his mind was wide awake, planning for his next move in two days' time. He downed the sleeping draught he'd prepared earlier in the day, shut off the lights, wrapped his arms around Amelia, and quickly drifted off to sleep, his dreams haunted by a pair of green-grey eyes and a blue and silver cloak.


	11. Chapter 11: Funny How Some Distance

**_The Corazón— _March 5th, 1890—06:00**

**Engineer Viktor Aleksandrov**

"Remember the cover story, Viktor. A man's life depends on it," Antonio warned as he walked the engineer to the airlock where Gilbert's team was waiting on one of the safety boats for him.

"Yes sir," Viktor nodded.

"James, the Scottish man, will be the leader of this. Anything he tells you, you listen. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

Antonio punched a few buttons, and the door to the airlock opened, revealing a small craft with white sails. Standing next to it were two individuals wearing heavy woolen cloaks, though only one of them had their hood up.

"So you're Viktor, huh? I kinda expected you to be a bit...cooler," the man without his hood said. Viktor found himself at a loss for words.

"Pleasure to meet you, too," he finally stammered. The hooded man nodded.

"You gonna be okay without your engineer for a day, Antonio? Wouldn't want all hell to break loose," the man without the hood said.

"_Sí! _We'll be fine! Just get _Señor Zwingli_ to a hospital! We'll see you in a day! Now go!" Antonio said.

"Captain Carriedo is right, Mathias. We have to get going, now," the hooded man, whom Viktor assumed to be James, said with a nod. Viktor saluted Antonio and followed the other two onto the small vessel. Lying on a small pallet in the centre of the boat was a very pale man with shoulder-length blond hair and vicious-looking cuts all over his face and arms.

"Take care, you guys! _Adios!_"

The airlock opened, Mathias started the engine of the craft, and before Viktor knew it, they were in the open air, _The Corazón_ rapidly fading from view.

After a few minutes, James stretched, and removed his hood, earning a gasp from Viktor.

Rather than a large, burly Scotsman as he had expected, Viktor found himself face-to-face with a young woman, her mahogany hair held back from her face by a pair of combs. She had cat-like grey eyes, and wore an even more cat-like grin.

"W-who are you? Where's James?" Viktor stuttered.

"Aye...about that. There never was a 'James' so to speak. It's a long and drawn out story, and I've already had to share it once today, but all you need to know is that I am still leader of this team. Understood?" the woman said in a strong Scottish accent.

Viktor nodded, before adding, "Okay, so what do I call you?"

"Normally, I'd say Embra, but for today's purposes, call me Margaret. The story still stands, we are siblings who have recently been attacked by Russian Federation ships, and our brother, Winston, has been wounded badly, but instead of being a band of brothers, you now have a sister. You will let me do most of the talking, lest your accent gives us away, and only speak when directly asked a question. Do you remember the name I gave you?"

"Yes, I do. I am Charlie Macdonald, I am twenty years of age, and I have been working as a missionary in Bulgaria for the past year," Viktor said confidently. The more he spoke with the Scotswoman, the less she made him nervous, and he hoped he conveyed that.

"Good. We'll be landing in about two hours, so make yourself comfortable."

They sat in silence, taking in the scenery afforded them by the open air.

"So...you're from Bulgaria, huh? Isn't that down near Romania?" Mathias said from his reclined position against the side of the boat.

"_Да!_ How'd you guess?" Viktor grinned. He didn't think his accent was that horribly pronounced.

"Captain Beilschmidt told us, plus our second mate is Romanian and gave us a nice imitation of the Bulgarian accent. I'm surprised you didn't meet him during the raid," Mathias laughed, clapping Viktor on the back. Embra smirked, and Viktor assumed that she was thinking of their friend's imitation.

"So...Mathias," Viktor began after a few seconds, keeping his voice quiet enough so that only Mathias could hear.

"_Ja_?" Mathias answered, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Did you always know about your...er...about Embra?"

Mathias burst out laughing wildly.

"What? What's so funny?" Viktor said defensively. He scowled.

"Your face! You looked so scared of asking that! Pffft! What're you so scared of? It's a fine question to ask!" Mathias cackled, earning a slap behind the head from Embra.

"Well, did you?"

"Nope! Learned this morning when she came down into the galley wearing a dress and her hair all curly and shit. Almost choked on my coffee, 'specially when she started talking!"

Viktor looked at the Dane incredulously, then spared a glance at Embra, who had returned to wiping Vash's head with a towel.

"How long have you been part of the crew?" Viktor said.

"Four years as of this past January!" Mathias said proudly.

"A-nd how long has she been first mate?"

"Five years and three months," Embra called. Viktor just stared at the two of them.

"Does anyone else find that weird?" he mumbled.

Mathias sat and thought about the Bulgarian's words.

"Yeah, it is a bit odd, and thinking back, we probably should've seen it coming, but when you're dealing with a sorceress and an overprotective ex-boyfriend who's also captain of the ship, you start to see how you could've missed it," the Dane finally said, earning an even more confused look from Viktor.

_These people are absolutely нечестив Бати_, Viktor thought to himself.

"What'd you just call us, Mister Aleksandrov?" Embra purred. Viktor blanched.

"W-what?"

"You were thinking that we're absolutely something, but I'm afraid I don't speak Bulgarian," she explained, brushing some of Vash's hair back from his face. The man was pale, and even in his sleep, wore a scowl.

"Oh, come on, James! Don't go reading other people's minds just to show off!" Mathias said with a cheesy grin. Embra looked pleased with herself.

"I was bored, Mat. Gimme a break," she said, "and my name's Embra, not James. You've got the wrong Mackenzie-Kirkland's middle name."

"Remember what Mir told you about doing that? It's dangerous to be doing it for shits and grins."

"I'm aware, Mathias, but I like to know who I'm dealing with."

Viktor tuned the pair out, choosing instead to focus on the cool air and the cloudy sky. Before long, he drifted off to sleep, curled up against the side of the craft.

"_Viktor! Wait up!" a young man with shaggy strawberry blonde hair yelled._

_Viktor stopped walking long enough for the youth to catch up, giving his friend a sly grin._

"_You know, Mircea, we would've been at the aerodrome sooner if you weren't so slow," he said. _

_"I know, I know, but there were some really cool trinkets back there, and I just had to look at them!" Mircea whined, pouting a little. Viktor rolled his eyes._

_"We can look at trinkets later. I heard that Antonio Carriedo is looking for men to join his crew!" Viktor huffed._

_It was now Mircea's turn to stop dead in his tracks, staring at Viktor with a look of shock and horror._

_"Wait...Is that why you want to go to the aerodrome today?" Mircea gasped._

_"Why else would I drag you down to go to see a bunch of ships?" Viktor said, as though Mircea's question had been just another of his stupid inquiries. _

_"Vik, you're not thinking of joining Carriedo's crew, are you?"_

_"Of course I am! Think about it, Mir! This could be the chance we've been waiting for! Things are looking up! Now come on!"_

_Mircea didn't move but to sadly shake his head._

_"Why're you looking so sad if you're shaking your head yes?" Viktor asked._

_"Because, Vik, the rest of the world doesn't shake their heads in affirmation. I can't go, and you know that. If I left, what would become of Stefan? I won't allow him to be placed in some orphanage, meaning I've got to stay with him."_

_"We could take him with us! He could be the cabin boy or something!" Viktor retorted, his green eyes glittering. Mircea again looked at him sadly._

_"Vik, no."_

Viktor was rudely awakened by a sudden impact, and a pair of bright blue eyes standing above him.

"Wakey-wakey, Sleeping Beauty!" Mathias yelled, nearly breaking Viktor's eardrum.

"Wha—? Wh're 'mI? Viktor mumbled incoherently.

"Can you repeat that, Buddy? Didn't quite catch it," the Dane said with a smile.

"Never mind," Viktor said, smoothing down his hair. He glanced around, finding himself in a large aerodrome filled with people running this way and that, many of them speaking in a harsh language Viktor identified as German. The Bulgarian spotted Embra standing on the dock itself, talking with an attendant, a worried look on her face. After a few moments, she pointed towards where Vash was lying at the prow of the craft, and waved Viktor and Mathias over.

"This man says that an ambulance will be here in five minutes to take Winston to the hospital. George, can you and Charlie go and get all of our things from the boat? I'm going to make sure that that Win gets off okay," the Scotswoman said in a distinctly English accent. Viktor knew that she meant for them all to speak in such a dialect, and it suddenly made sense why she had told him not to speak unless directly spoken to.

"Of course, Maggie, but don't leave without us!" Mathias replied. Viktor had to try hard not to show his surprise at how convincing Mathias sounded.

"I won't, but be quick," Embra said with a nod.

Viktor and Mathias returned to the vessel, Viktor grabbing all four bags while Mathias discreetly radioed back to _Der Adler_ to notify them that they had arranged for Vash to get medical care.

Once they had rejoined their 'sister,' all three jumped into the back of the ambulance, and left for the hospital.

**_The English Rose_—March 5th, 1890—09:00**

**Amelia F. Jones**

Amelia woke up warm and comfortable, or as comfortable as she could be with stitches in her abdomen, feeling content. She glanced around, surprised to find herself in an empty bedroom which was not her own, though relieved to find that she still wore all of her clothing.

"Oh, good, you're awake," a voice said from the other side of the room. Amelia rolled over and looked at Arthur, who was smoothing out his deep red coat before putting it on.

"And ready to face the world!" Amelia exclaimed, bolting out of the bed, nearly tripping over the sheets.

"I believe you should probably clean yourself up and change your clothing before you go out and take on the world, Miss Jones. I have to go talk with the rest of my crew about something important, but feel free to take your time and get some food. Do try to stay out of the way. Good day, Miss Jones," Arthur said cordially, all warmness from the day before gone. He was out the door before Amelia could say anything else, and the American woman decided she would take the opportunity to find out more about the captain.

A cursory glance around the room revealed nothing, so Amelia started opening various drawers in the desk, which was a smaller version of the one that sat in Arthur's office. Somewhere in her haste, Amelia accidentally knocked over a large book, causing multiple pieces of loose paper to fall out. The pieces were of many differing sizes and colours, some of them pictures, others handwritten notes.

"Jackpot!" she squealed, picking up the papers. One picture had a man and a woman in formal clothing, and Amelia realised that they were probably Arthur's parents. Another piece of paper had a long note written in messy handwriting, obviously from a male sender. Amelia smiled at pictures of a younger Arthur playing with five other kids who all looked fairly similar, and laughed at letters between him and his siblings. The last two pieces of paper, however, sent Amelia's heart down into her stomach.

The first was small with elegant, feminine script, and simply read:

_"En Ma Fin Est Mon Commencement._

_~Iona Margaret Kirkland-Mackenzie~_

_25th December, 1885"_

The second, a much longer letter, was written in what looked to be an entirely different language, until Amelia realised that it was scots dialect.

_"Artie-lad,_

_Canty birthday, wee brother. You're finally a jimmy, even if ye don't keek lik' yin juist yit. Sorry that Ah can't be thare tae celebrate wi' ye th'day. Hopefully, this letter wis accompanied by mah gift tae ye, fur otherwise, th' neist few lines won't mak' a lick o' sense. It's traditional, in a fowk stowed oot o' Royal Air Force captains, tae the noo a dagger tae a jimmy oan his fifteenth birthday. Fur thare ur sae damn mony o' us, though, th' twins 'n' Dylan hud tae be skipped, meaning you're th' jammy git wha gets tae follow me intae th' Academy 'n' th' RAF. Ye shuid be receiving yer letter sometime aroond Yule, by whilk point, Ah'll be thare tae actually celebrate it wi' ye. Tak' care o' th' dagger, fur ye don't git anither. 'N' Arthur, tak' care o' yersel'. Ah ken it's pernicketie wi'oot th' rest o' us aroond, 'n' you're stuck in Englain by yersel', bit mind, ye aye hae yer fowk, na maiter howfur spread oot it's. We micht tease ye 'n' taunt ye whiles, 'n' Ah realise that hauf th' time, ye juist waant us a' tae gang die in hell, bit at th' end o' th' day, mind that we a' loue ye, 'n' aye wull, regardless o' glaikit hings tae decide. Anyway, Ah hae tae git gaun. They're shipping me aff tae Poland fur th' neist few months, bit Ah'll see ye aroond Yule. Canty birthday, Arthur._

_Love,_

_Alistair"_

She didn't understand most of what it was saying because the dialect was so weird, but she noticed that the letter was dated around sometime in October, and suddenly, Amelia felt faintly ill. Arthur had told her that Alistair had been killed ten days before Christmas, meaning that this letter was probably the last time Arthur heard from his brother.

She rapidly put everything back into the pages of the book and replaced it on the shelf, before running out of the room and into her own.

A little while later, she heard Arthur and a few of his men walk past her door, speaking in hushed voices.

"So they've sent a team into Berlin? Wonderful. That's at least a few less people to contend with tomorrow. We'll attack them when their guards are down," Arthur said, earning grunts of approval from the others. Amelia listened to their footsteps echo down the hallway, making sure they were out of earshot before letting out a small whimper, tears escaping from her eyes

**Alistair's Letter Translation:**

**"Artie-lad,**

**Happy Birthday, Little Brother. You're finally a man, even if you don't look like one just yet. Sorry that I can't be there to celebrate with you today. Hopefully, this letter was accompanied by my gift to you, because otherwise, the next few lines won't make a lick of sense. It's traditional, in a family full of Royal Air Force captains, to present a dagger to a man on his fifteenth birthday. Because there are so damn many of us, though, the twins and Dylan had to be skipped, meaning you're the lucky git who gets to follow me into the Academy and the RAF. You should be receiving your letter sometime around Christmas, by which point, I'll be there to actually celebrate it with you. Take care of the dagger, because you don't get another. And Arthur, take care of yourself. I know it's difficult without the rest of us around, and you're stuck in England by yourself, but remember, you always have your family, no matter how spread out it is. We might tease you and taunt you sometimes, and I realise that half the time, you just want us all to go die in Hell, but at the end of the day, remember that we all love you, and always will, regardless of stupid decisions. Anyway, I have to get going. They're shipping me off to Poland for the next few months, but I'll see you around Christmas. Happy Birthday, Arthur.**

**Love,**

**Alistair"**


	12. Chapter 12: The Innocence of a Child

**Berlin, Germany—March 5th, 1890—19:00**

**Iona Margaret "Embra" Kirkland-Mackenzie**

Iona sat quietly in the waiting room of the hospital, waiting for the doctors to come out of the operating room. Vash had been in surgery since they'd arrived at the large hospital in Berlin, and she'd spent most of her day relating the cover story the group had come up with to various doctors and legal people.

_What I wouldn't give to be sitting around the table with the rest of the crew right now instead of being here. I have a bad feeling about being down here without everyone else... Something's going to happen..._ she thought to herself. She fidgeted slightly in her seat, trying to muffle the sounds of her stomach growling.

Suddenly, the lead doctor came into the room with a tired look on his face.

"Well? Will Winston be okay?" Mathias asked sincerely, giving the doctor a wide-eyed look.

"_Ja_, your _bruder_ will survive, and we should have him back on his feet within two weeks, so worry not. Do you three have a place to stay or were you planning to spend the night here at the hospital?" the German man said, looking over at Iona.

"We're staying at a hotel about three kilometers away. I think it's called the Honigmond Inn," Iona replied, earning a nod from the doctor.

"That is an excellent choice. I do suggest heading over there now, as they're about to close this waiting area for the night. If anything happens, someone will fetch one of you," the doctor said with a polite smile. The three pirates stood and gathered their bags, taking a moment to shake hands with the doctor as they filed out of the building and onto the street. A mixture of horse-drawn carriages and steam-powered cars flew past the trio, and Iona had to hold down her long green skirt a few times to make sure it didn't reveal too much.

"Mat, do you have the portable radio?" the Scotswoman asked, waving her arm in an attempt to call a cab.

"_Ja_. I have it in my bag, and it's already sent to the correct frequency," Mathias answered. He too was trying to hail a driver, with just as little success. Finally, Viktor stepped up, placed two fingers in his mouth, and gave a very loud whistle. Almost immediately, a carriage came thundering up, pulled along by a pair of beautiful russet-coloured horses.

Iona and Mathias simply stared at the Bulgarian, who flashed them a sneer and threw his bag into the back of the carriage.

"Where to, _Schöne_?" the driver asked, eyeing Iona in a way that made her feel faintly violated.

Mathias stepped between his 'sister' and the driver, and said, "Honigmond Inn, please," in an unusually cold voice. Iona felt a pang of pride at how well he was slipping into the role of the older brother. The driver nodded and watched as Mathias helped Iona into the carriage before throwing the rest of their bags in, and joining the other two in the back.

The ride to the hotel was quiet as all three travelers gazed in wonder at the city around them.

_Dylan would love this place_, Iona mused, thinking about her flaxen-haired brother and his love of big cities. She was almost certain that, had her brother ever come to Berlin, he would've never left, and her visit there would most likely have been for a much different and much happier reason. Iona wondered how her right-hand sibling was doing now that he had settled down and gotten married that past November, despite the fact that he and his wife were only twenty-two years of age. She had attended the wedding, unbeknownst to any of her surviving siblings, and had even given the couple the gift of a beautifully carved stone dragon with the phrase, "En Ma Fin," at its feet, a message she hoped her brother had not missed. She thought back to that crisp November day, and smiled at the thought of the twins in their matching suits, girlfriends dressed in warmly coloured silk dresses on their arms, laughed at the memory of Dylan standing at the altar looking nervous as he waited for his bride to walk down the aisle, and sighed when she remembered seeing Arthur in much the same position as herself: sitting at the very back of the church in Cardiff, dressed to the nines, but looking for all the world like he was going to bolt the moment the ceremony ended. She could see her own dress in her mind's eye, a beautiful thing Francis had once given her made of deep blue satin with white piping at the neck and wrists, meant to call to mind the Scottish flag. Then again, a lot of her clothing had that particular colour scheme, but this dress especially stuck out in her mind because she had left it at home in London when she'd run away, and retrieving it for the wedding had been the first time in five years that she'd stepped foot in the great London manor.

Somebody tapped her lightly on the arm, and called her cover name. Mechanically, Iona allowed herself to be helped out of the carriage and escorted into the lobby of the grand hotel, staring up in wonder at the beautiful stained glass ceiling

"Hey, Margaret, can you go check us in while we pay the driver?" Mathias called, nodding to the driver who was still sitting outside.

Iona smiled in affirmation, and walked over to the front desk.

"_Guten Abend, gnädige Frau. _How may I help you?" the woman behind the desk said with an obviously practised smile.

"I'm very well, thank you. I'm here to check in. It should be under George Macdonald, and it's for three rooms indefinitely," Iona said, giving an equally fake smile in return. The woman looked at a small screen in front of her, and typed in a few things.

"Ah, yes, here we go. You wanted it charged to the bank account of a Mister Sean H. Kirkland-Mackenzie?" the woman said dubiously. Iona nodded.

"Yes. That's my brother-in-law who's funding this emergency trip. My older brother, Winston, is in the hospital after we were attacked by a Russian Federation ship on our way to Vienna for our grandmother's funeral, which is why our stay here is indefinite. Sadly, we won't make the funeral, but it's better to care for the family you still have than to risk a man's life for the dead," Iona said, hoping that she was still convincing enough after a long day of repeating the same story over and over again.

The woman nodded, dug around in a drawer, and pulled out three keys.

"Here you go. Rooms 350, 351, and 352. The stairs are down that hallway and on your left. Enjoy your stay, Miss."

By that point, Mathias and Viktor had re-entered the lobby, and Iona waved them over to the stairs. Once they had sidled up to her, she doled out keys and took her bag from Viktor.

"I'm going to shower and change into something more comfortable before dinner, okay? Can I trust the two of you to behave?" she teased with a slight grin. The two men nodded, and they went to their respective rooms.

Once inside, Iona threw her bag into the wardrobe, made sure the door which connected her room to Mathias' room and the large sitting area the three of them would share was locked, and flopped down onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow. She was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, even though it was only 19:30 according to the clock on the bedside table.

"Really hoping that this isn't becoming a pattern, because this is the second day in a row I've wanted to skip meals in favour of sleep," she mumbled into the pillow. She figured that the shower excuse gave her at least an hour, if not longer, so she quickly rid herself of her green traveling dress and slipped into a simple white blouse and a black skirt before climbing under the sheets of the large queen bed.

She lay there for a while, listening to the sounds of cars outside and the general noises of the city.

"_Are you going to Scarborough Fair?_" she sang softly, choosing to hum the rest of the song as she fell asleep.

The next thing she knew, she was in a different city, one unlike any other she'd ever seen. The colours were bright and crisp, and the architecture looked like an odd mix of Western Europe, Slavic, and Southern Europe. She was somewhere in the Balkans.

"_Remember me to one who lives there; she once was a true love of mine," _a familiar voice sang behind her. She wheeled around and leapt at Mircea, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Mir! You're here! How are you here? Are you actually here? Where is here? Am I dreaming? What's going on?" she asked in quick succession, earning a sheepish laugh from the Romanian man.

"'ona, calm down! I'll explain!" he said, returning the hug. "Yes, you're dreaming, yes I'm really, truly here, magic, this is Bucharest according to my imagination, and I missed you. Any other questions?" Mircea said, faintly muffled by Iona's hair.

"...You missed me?" Iona said questioningly, pulling back to look at him.

Mircea turned red and reached up to ruffle her hair, laughing softly.

"Well, with Captain Beilschmidt in that mood you put him in this morning, and Daniel insulting me at every turn, yeah, I kind of miss you. Bonnefoy's crew mainly stays with one another in the secondary airlock bay, so I've got no one to talk to with you gone, and no one to curl up on the top deck with" he murmured. Now, it was Iona's turn to blush, and her face became almost as dark red as her hair. She buried her face in Mircea's chest in an attempt to hide it.

"So you're here by magic? Since when did you know how to dream walk? That's something that only the most powerful can do," she said.

"I'm stronger than I look," Mircea sniffed, earning a look of surprise from the Scotswoman.

"You never cease to amaze me, Mir. Guess you've been going easy on me all this time," Iona laughed.

"Only a little, _draga mea_. You have your little mind-reading spell, I have my dreams. We're even," Mircea laughed.

"Did you just call me a dragon?"

"Er...no. I, um, well, I called you my friend."

"Right...I hope you realise that parts of your language are really weird," Iona said with a smirk.

"Yeah? Well, your accent makes you sound like you're speaking a language even weirder than mine," Mircea teased in return, pulling Iona in for another hug.

"So really, why are you here?" Iona asked, looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

Mircea thought for a few moments. "Because I want to make sure I'm not going crazy. I feel like something's about to happen, what with all of us so focused on Vash and everything, and I don't like it. Am I losing it, 'ona?"

"Nae. I've been feeling it too, all day. I thought it was just nerves about walking amongst civilians, but now that I know I'm not the only one, I'm not so sure," Iona said.

"Well, whatever it is, we'll face it together! How's Berlin? Is it awesome? What's the food like? Are the people totally scary like Captain Beislchmidt and his little brother?" Mircea chirped.

"I spent most of my day in the hospital, Mircea, so I know about as little as you do. From what I saw, it's very nice, and very clean, and the people have been very kind, for the most part. I haven't eaten all day, and at this rate, I probably won't. I'm too tired," Iona replied with a shrug. Mircea chuckled softly, rolling his eyes.

Iona suddenly felt something pulling the two of them apart, as though a string were attached to both of their backs and somebody was tugging them.

"I have to go. Promise me that you'll be safe?" Mircea sighed, giving Iona one last squeeze.

"Promise," the young woman said with a nod.

Mircea faded away, and the city soon followed until Iona was left in inky darkness. She awoke a few moments later back in her hotel room. Mathias stood over her.

"Oi! How'd you get in?" Iona screeched.

"You left it unlocked, Maggie," Mathias said, rubbing his ears.

"Oh. Why are you here?"

"It's been an hour, and we're starving! Come on! Let's go find food and booze!" Mathias yelled, picking the tired Scotswoman up and throwing her to the floor. She swiped at him with her nails in retaliation, but it had no effect.

"Aye, come on. Let's see what Berlin has to offer," she sighed.

_**The English Rose—**_**23:45**

**Stefan Zeltser-Bălan**

Stefan hovered in the shadows of the hallway, making sure to stay out of the square of light coming from Captain Kirkland's office. He wasn't supposed to be up this late, nor was he supposed to be listening in on the captain's conversations with the other crew members, but a few words had caught his interest.

"Let me get this straight, Mister Erickson. You're telling me that you the individuals you sparred with were a young Romanian man and a Scottish woman, both of whom possessed magic? Do you really expect me to believe that?" Captain Kirkland growled. Stefan shivered at the ice in his voice.

"I know what I saw and heard, Captain. The man was most definitely Romanian, and I remember that his companion called him 'Mircea,' which I do believe is a Romanian name. He had magic, just like you and me," Mister Erickson said coolly.

"And remind me of the woman's description? You're sure she was Scottish? If you're telling me the truth, I'll make you a very happy man. However, if you're lying to me, I'll make you into shoes."

"Yes sir. She was as Scottish as they come, sir. I could barely understand her."

"Did the Romanian man refer to the woman by name at all?"

"Yes."

"And...?"

"Her name was Iona, sir."

Captain Kirkland sat and thought for a moment, glaring daggers at his magician.

"She didn't happen to look like this," he started, pulling out a small photograph and showing it to the Norwegian man, "did she?"

Mister Erickson gasped and nodded.

"That's the girl, sir. Do you know her?" he gulped.

"Do I know her? Do I know her? By bloody God yes I fucking know her. You want to know who that God-forsaken witch you met was?"

Mister Erickson nodded again.

"That goddamned woman is my goddamned fucking runaway of a sister and you let her get away with stealing from me?! I stationed you in that room for one reason, and one reason only, and that was to catch anyone who tried to steal from us! Not only did you let me down, Lukas, but you let my fucking older sister and her little Romanian boyfriend steal from us! I cannot believe you, dammit! What the bloody fucking hell?! By God, if you ever see her again, I want you to capture her on sight. Do I make myself clear?" Captain Kirkland screamed, and Stefan couldn't contain a small yelp. Both men turned, and Captain Kirkland narrowed his eyes.

"Stefan, come here," he said, composing himself. Stefan timidly crept over to Captain Kirkland's side, cowering a little at the cruel look that still lingered in the Englishman's eyes.

"How much of that did you hear, my boy?" Captain Kirkland asked.

"A-all of it, sir," the boy squeaked.

"And why were you listening to our conversation?"

"B-b-because I heard you talking about the magic people who attacked Mister Erickson! I saw them too!" the child blurted, throwing his arms into the air. This earned a curious look from the captain and his companion.

"Really now? Do tell," the Englishman purred.

"I heard voices coming down the hall and then I saw these two hooded people jump into one of the corridor closets and so I also hid 'cause I thought some scary bad guy was going to come get me and after that, they walked out of the closet and down the hallway, but I lost track of them when they disappeared down the stairs and I waited for them to return so that I could bring them to you, but I heard them fighting Mister Erickson and it sounded really, really scary, so I hid around the corner until I heard my brother, Mircea's voice and him and a funny sounding lady stood at the top of the stairs, but then she put her hood on and walked away and I really wanted to say hi to my big brother, but I didn't want to get into any trouble and I really wish I had said hi anyways and I miss him and I wanna go to be-e-e-d," Stefan said rapidly, his face turning red. Tears welled up in his large red-brown eyes, and his bottom lip quivered.

"Shhh. Don't cry, Stefan. It's okay," Captain Kirkland said, his tone much gentler than it had been moments before. Stefan wiped his eyes and nose with one grimy sleeve and nodded. All he really wanted right now was a hug, but he knew he couldn't ask the captain for one.

"Are you going to hurt my big brother?" he asked with a sniff. the captain ruffled his hair and smiled.

"No, I'm not going to hurt your brother, Stefan."

"Okay. I'm gonna go to bed now. Goodnight, Captain!"

Stefan skittered off, only stopping to admire how the cannons and guns and the piles of ammo which surrounded them shone in the moonlight, all of them trained on a pair of ships flying half a mile away.

_Be safe, Mircea, and be happy,_ Stefan thought, staring at the bright moon.


	13. Chapter 13: Mein Gott!

_**Der Adler**_**—March 6th, 1890—09:00**

**Yao Wang**

The air inside the ship hummed with excitement as everybody prepared for landing in Berlin. Beilschmidt's crew had taken down the infamous skeleton eagle flag which flew above the ship in favour of a Prussian flag the albino captain had magically produced from his desk. All guns and cannons were taken out of their port holes and stored within the belly of the craft, and all decks were scrubbed spotless. By the end of a very long three hours, _Der Adler_ looked like any Prussian merchant's ship. Far away, Yao could see that Carriedo's ship had done the same, even to the point of covering up the name of the boat and replacing it with _El Tomate_.

"Yao, have you finished packing bags?" Francis called from the floor above.

"_Shì de, xiānshēng!_ All of the bags are packed and I'm just waiting on Matthew to come help me take them to each room," Yao replied, gesturing to the various overnight bags and duffels and backpacks that lay on the floor around him.

"He should, like, be down there already," Feliks huffed.

"I don't see him, you girly-man," Yao said, crossing his arms.

"_Uhm, guys? I'm right here,_" a quiet voice behind Yao said. The Chinese man jumped.

"Aiya! Don't scare me like that! I'm an old man, dammit," he cried.

"You're 27, Yao. Last I checked, that's not very old," Francis laughed.

"_Sorry aboot that, but I really have been standing here since we came downstairs," _Matthew said with a nervous smile. Yao nodded.

"Alright. Let's get this stuff to everybody's rooms and be done with it. I've been up since 06:00 and I want breakfast," he said, throwing two bags over his shoulder. Matthew did the same, and the two of them walked up the stairs into the main corridor of the living area of the ship.

"Have we heard anything from Carriedo and his crew, Captain?" Yao asked as he poked his head into a room filled with maps of all sizes and colours. Francis sat at a table in the corner, looking over maps of Berlin and the surrounding areas, trying to find a place to safely land the ships.

"_Oui_. They're ready and waiting for our signal. We land around 12:00," Francis replied, running a hand through his long blond hair.

"Right. I'll leave your bag outside the door, okay?"

Francis nodded, returning to his maps.

Yao and Matthew quickly finished their chore, and headed to the kitchen where Berwald was in the process of cooking eggs.

"How in the world are you all able to keep eggs on this ship? There's no ice box or way to keep them cool and fresh," Yao said, pointing to the frying pan.

"M'gic," Berwald grunted.

"You must be joking! Magic isn't real," Matthew snorted as he and Yao took their seats at the grand oak table.

"Are you sure about that? The last time I checked, it was very real," a voice chuckled from the stairwell. The Romanian kid, whose name Yao could not remember, and Captain Beilschmidt walked over to the table, joining the Hungarian man, Daniel, at the far end. Beilschmidt and the Romanian gave each other a wide berth, and the tension between the two men was tangible.

"_Shénme?_ What proof do you have? Fortune cookie told me this morning to only believe what I see, and I see no magic here!" Yao said defiantly.

"_Ó, Istenem,_ it's too early for you to be starting this. Don't encourage the little _idióta_," Daniel groaned. Feliks patted him on the back supportively.

"I can show you magic, old man," the Romanian taunted, standing up. He leaned over the table and looked Yao in the eyes, making the Chinese man shrink back faintly.

"I don't want to see any of your demon magic. Get out of my face. Your breath smells like ass," Yao grumbled, but it was obvious the Romanian didn't hear him.

Suddenly, the room went dark, and Yao found himself face-to-face with a pair of demonic red eyes and a fanged grin.

"You sure you don't believe in magic? I certainly do~ In fact, it's my entire job," the Romanian's voice purred, seeming to come at Yao from all sides. He felt something wrapping around him like an invisible snake.

"Okay, okay! Magic is real! Calm down, you jerk," the Chinese man yelled. The room returned to normal, and everybody shot a glare at the Romanian man.

"Great! I'll go get the _cafea_!" the Romanian said with a smile.

"_Tut mir so leid für ihn_. He's not usually like this because I usually have him trained to be a good little subordinate," Captain Beilschmidt sighed apologetically, putting his head down on the table. He looked like a man who could use a vacation.

"Remind me why you named him second mate instead of me?" Daniel growled.

"Because he joined before you did," Beilschmidt responded as the Romanian placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

"And don't you forget it, _Maghiar_," the Romanian sneered.

"Don't **you** forget the rules, Mircea. I swear, if you ever pull a stunt like that again on anyone, I'm turning you in to the authorities immediately and laugh while they execute you for piracy, got it? Now is not the time to be showing off what you can do. Just because Miss Mackenzie isn't here to make sure you don't make an ass of yourself doesn't mean that you're allowed to just run amuck and perform magic whenever you feel like it. For one, it's against the rules of this ship. It's also a good way to get your ass kicked. Understood?" Beilschmidt snarled, glaring at Mircea. He had reached his last nerve, only to have it danced upon by his temporary first mate.

"Aye, sir. _Îmi pare rău,_" Mircea said, sitting back down and cowering a little. Yao noticed that he no longer had the mischievous glint in his eyes, and really, he looked just as tired as his captain.

"Everybody, eat quickly. We must be prepared by the time noon arrives," Beilschmidt said, regaining his composure. In the three days that he'd been on _Der Adler_, Yao had watched Gilbert Beilschmidt go from a hyperactive, egotistic young man to a weary, irritable shell of a human being. The previous morning obviously hadn't helped much.

_The Morning Previous—04:45_

"_Was die verdammte Hölle trägst du, Embra?!" Gilbert screamed, stomping after his first mate. He was making enough noise to rouse the dead, but in his anger, he quite honestly didn't care who he woke up._

"_You're going to have to speak English, Gilbert. I don't understand German, and I especially don't understand it this early in the morning," Iona said in an even voice, standing in the main area of the ship, waiting for Mathias. _

"_You look like a girl!"_

"_I am, in fact, a woman, yes, so it would be normal for me to look like a woman."_

"_What the fuck?!" _

"_Swearing at me doesn't give me any inclination of what's wrong."_

"_You're in direct violation of the one and only rule I've ever given you, and you act like it's nothing! I demand you go put your bindings and trousers on immediately before everyone—"_

"_Everybody's already seen, Gilbert! The gig is up."_

"_It doesn't matter."_

"_Then why force me to wear those bloody clo—"_

"_Because I said so, dammit, and I'm the fucking captain!"_

"_That's the shittiest excuse I've ever heard in my entire damn life. Like hell I'm going to liste—"_

"_Now__, Embra! You will listen to me, or so help me God—"_

"_God won't fucking help you, you asshole! I dare you to do your absolute worst!"_

_By this point, most of the crew had drifted to the gathering place to see what all the commotion was about. _

"_Szent szar! Captain, there's a woman onboard," Daniel yelled, pointing at Iona, her identity obviously not registering with the tired Hungarian man._

"_I know there's a woman onboard, you dummkopf!" Gilbert snarled._

"_Gilbert, will you stop screaming? Let the others sleep, and leave them out of it," Iona begged as Gilbert grabbed her arm, intending to drag her back to her room._

"_Leave the others out of what?" Francis yawned, looking around at the inhabitants of Der Adler, though missing Iona._

"_Francis! A little help here would be greatly appreciated," the Scotswoman said, giving Francis a pleading look._

"_Oh Mon Dieu, Embra! What on Earth are you doing here? Gilbert, unhand her!" Francis cried, his blue eyes filled with shock as he suddenly noticed his former lover._

"_I'll explain, but only if someone gets this maniac off of me!"_

_Francis stood there, frozen, his mind unable to get any messages to his muscles. He could only watch as his former girlfriend struggled to escape Gilbert's grasp in front of him, her hair falling out of its neat ponytail. Iona managed to wriggle out of the albino's grasp, and started towards Francis, but was stopped almost immediately by Gilbert stepping on the hem of her favourite blue and silver cloak. The sound of fabric tearing cut through the air, and Iona screamed._

"_What the bloody fucking hell?! Are you so goddamn prideful and possessive that you can't even allow the woman that you supposedly 'love' be herself? Were you ever trying to 'protect' me, or was that all a bloody ruse to keep me all to yourse—" _

"_Shut up, Embra! You just don't know when to—"_

"_I can't believe I've spent the past five years fooling myself into thinking that I loved you, because honestly, you're just like another one of my snot-nosed, spoilt brat brothers! There's a reason I ran away from the—"_

"_Get a grip on yourself, woman! You will obey me without any argu—"_

"_And now you've gone and ruined something I hold dear! Do you know where I got that cloak? Do you want to know why it's so spe—"_

"_I don't give a damn!"_

"_Alistair gave me that cloak, you asshole, and it's the only thing I have left of my __**dead **__**twin brother, **__and now you've gone and destroyed it, all because you can't stand to let anyone else see me as I really am! I have half a mind to just strangle you right now!"she howled, turning on Gilbert and fixing him with a glare that would make Satan cower in fear. Tears welled up in her silver eyes, and the air around her felt charged, full of magic energy. _

_By this point, Gilbert's face had turned a brilliant red colour, and his entire body shook as he tried and failed miserably to contain his rage._

_Without any warning, he lunged at Iona, just as Mircea stepped between the two of them—_

_CRACK_

_Mircea's hands flew to his left cheek, covering the scarlet handprint Gilbert had left. Despite hitting the wrong target, Gilbert couldn't hold his tongue anymore._

"_Do you dare speak to me that way, you little bitch? First, you disobey a direct order from your captain, and then you have the nerve to yell at me? You should thank the Lord I haven't thrown you into the hold yet!" Gilbert yelled before composing himself, "Now, I will give you one last chance. You will go back to your room immediately and put on your bindings and your normal clothing, and once you've done that, we can pretend that none of this ever happened. If not, I will find some way to punish you. Is that clear?"_

_Mircea whispered something in Iona's ear, and the young woman nodded, her eyes returning to a simple grey colour. _

"_I will not," she said, sticking out her chin and bringing herself to full height. _

"_What?" Gibert choked._

"_I. Will. Not. It's that simple, Gilbert. I have a mission I must prepare for, and I don't have time for such silly things as changing clothing, nor for dealing with immature bastards such as yourself. Feel free to enact whatever punishment you feel fit once I return to the ship after taking Vash to the hospital, but for now, a man's life depends upon me being ready to leave at 05:30," Iona sniffed, giving Gilbert an icy look. She unclasped the cloak and handed it to Mircea delicately, then turned and left the room, headed for the galley._

_The rest of the combined crews just stared, looking from the doorway to Gilbert, and back to the doorway. _

_Mathias, oblivious to what had just happened, burst into the room with a grin on his face."Woah! Why's everybody awake and out here? You're not all going with us, are you?" He was greeted with dead silence as Gilbert shakily pointed to the stairs down to the kitchen._

"_Not another word. Just go and be ready to leave at 05:30," the captain snarled, looking down at the torn piece of blue and silver fabric trapped beneath his foot. _

_~End Flashback~_

It had certainly been interesting, though nobody had actually explained what had happened until later on, and even then, it had been Mircea who had brought everybody up to speed.

"Kids these days..." Yao sighed.

"Like, what was that?" Feliks said, looking at him curiously.

"Nothing, nothing. Eat your breakfast, Feliks," Yao mumbled, getting up to fix his tea.

_**The Corazón—**_**March 6th, 1890—12:00**

**Captain Antonio Carriedo**

"Abel, will you be okay to fly this thing to the Berlin Aerodrome?" Antonio asked, looking out the window of the bridge. Their descent into the Berlin area would be long and tedious, and he worried about his navigator, who really hadn't slept much the night before.

"_Ja_, I'll be fine, Captain. Got some coffee and the spitfire to keep me awake, plus Hercules should be in soon," Abel said with a nod towards Romana, who was curled up on the windowsill with a book.

"_Bueno!_ I'll be in my office if you all need me," the Spaniard called over his shoulder, turning to leave. Something in the window caught his eye, making him freeze.

"Roma, do you see that thing?" he said. The Italian girl looked out the window.

"Not really well, but I think it's another ship," she said.

"Abel, get me my telescope," Antonio commanded. The Dutchman threw a brass cylinder at Antonio, who caught it midair. He marched over to the window and pulled out the telescope. He was met with a sight which made his blood run cold.

"_Mierda. Esa es la nave de Kirkland,_" he swore. It was hard to mistake the pristine ship flying the British flag. Romana looked at him with large, scared eyes.

"You mean that guy you attacked the other day?" she whispered.

"Yeah, the same one. I've got a bad feeling about this. Abel, tell everybody to man the guns," Antonio nodded and said something into a nearby pipe on the wall.

"We'll continue on our path to the landing sight Francis chose, but we should stay alert. Roma, why don't you go find Feliciana and stay in my bedroom? Just to be safe," Antonio said with a smile, disguising the command which lay underneath his words. Romana jumped from the windowsill and breezed past the Spaniard.

"Tell Heracles to radio Gilbert and his ship. Otherwise, we might just be flying into a trap," Antonio said. He nearly ran to his office, just as Heracles was making contact with _Der Adler_.

"Toni, what is it? Your radio guy said it was urgent," Francis yelled almost immediately.

"Kirkland is situated to the north-northeast of us, I'd say about a mile away and getting closer. His guns were brandished," Antonio said.

"What? Life just keeps getting better, doesn't it?" Gilbert huffed.

"What should we do?" Francis said.

"Move faster. Continue heading due east, but bring up our speed. It's the only thing we can do. Surely he wouldn't attack us over the center of a major city," Antonio said, glancing out the window at the city below. They were so close to their destination.

Suddenly, the entire ship rocked, and the radio cut out.

"_Coño! _Mister Karpusi, get everybody stationed," Antonio yelled. Another blast made the entire world shake, and Antonio's life flashed before his eyes.

He dashed into his bedroom where the two Italians cowered in the back of his closet.

"You two! With me! Now!" he yelled, helping both of them up. He took Romana's hand and led the two girls to one of the ship's safety crafts.

"Wait here, and if anything happens, you take this vessel and you get out of here immediately. _¿Comprenden?_" he said, holding Romana's hand to his chest.

"Y-yes, but be safe, _bastardo_!" Romana said, looking him in the eye. Antonio nodded and released her. He was knocked off balance by a third blast.

"Captain, Kirkland's firepower is too strong! We need to evacuate, now! My brother and his crew have begun returning fire on Kirkland, but our radar says we have another ship heading towards us, and this one is much bigger," Ludwig's voice yelled over the loudspeaker. Antonio rushed over to the airlock speaker.

"Ludwig, give the orders, and make sure the girls get out of here safely. We need to get to Gilbert's ship. His ship is armed to the teeth," the captain cried. He punched in the open code for the airlock just as the entire crew rushed in to the bay area.

"Everybody, get in the crafts. There's not enough time to go back for anything," Ludwig barked. The crew obeyed, and once the last person had clambered into a vessel, they launched into the crisp March air.

Transit over to _Der Adler_ only took five minutes, but to Captain Antonio Carriedo, it felt like an eternity as he watched the British ship pummel his beautiful girl to ashes. Tears ran down his cheeks, and Romana even put her head on his shoulder in a sort of comforting gesture, but nothing helped. Without thinking, Antonio wrapped his arms around Romana, burying his face in her auburn hair.

When they finally reached the Prussian ship, they were greeted by Francis and Gilbert, but almost immediately, all three captains dashed to the bridge to continue the assault.

"Sir! We have an even larger ship coming into the area, and I really don't like the looks of this guy," Gilbert's radioman yelled, pressing a button and shooting another cannon at _The English Rose_.

"If they attack us, we fight, and if this ship goes down, we all do," Gilbert growled, looking absolutely demonic. What he didn't realise was that the rest of those onboard his ship had other ideas than going down with the ship.

**Berlin, Germany—March 6th, 1890—The Same Time**

**Iona Margaret Kirkland-Mackenzie**

"Guys...guys...I think you need to come out here," Mathias called from the balcony of Vash's hospital room.

"What is it, Mat? A bunch of pretty birds or something?" Iona teased. Mathias shot her a worried look, and the Scotswoman sobered up. She and Viktor joined the Dane on the balcony, and Iona nearly screamed. High above them in the sky were three ships, plus another rapidly falling, its sails on fire.

"Oh dear God Almighty," she breathed as she watched _Der Adler_ send another volley of cannon balls at her baby brother's ship. Suddenly, both ships caught fire as the third ship, a behemoth grey monster, shot simultaneously at them.

"No!" all three crew members yelled. They watched in horror as the grey ship continued shooting round after round at _The English Rose _and _Der Adler_.

"We need to get to the Aerodrome, now," Viktor yelled, running inside to grab their coats. The other two followed.

"Vash, we'll be back soon. Something's come up," Iona whispered in the Swiss man's ear.

They practically sprinted to the Aerodrome, where fire brigades and police cars already waited, everyone focused on the sky above.

_Mircea, you must protect everyone, _Iona thought, hoping that her friend would somehow receive it.

Suddenly, _The English Rose_ exploded, and all around, people screamed. Iona crumpled to the ground. Her brother...her baby brother...

"Alexandru Mircea Bălan, I swear to the ever loving God that if you or any of the others die, I will make your life or afterlife a living hell!" she screamed.

In the confusion, nobody noticed the three small crafts floating down, containing the crew of the British naval ship.

By now, the grey ship had turned its attention on _Der Adler_, and Mathias picked Iona up, enveloping her in a hug as they watched their home be destroyed.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Iona whimpered, unable to watch. Mathias couldn't take his eyes off of the scene.

Many agonising minutes passed, and somehow, _Der Adler_ held out, but finally, the ship gave one last shudder and came tumbling down in a great ball of fire, joining the remains of _The English Rose_ somewhere on the outskirts of the city.

Mathias hugged Iona tighter, burying his face in her hair as a child would bury his face in his mother's skirt. Viktor stood by, watching calmly.

The Dane looked up just in time to see four safety vessels coming into the Aerodrome.

"Iona, they made it!" he yelled, releasing the young woman.

"What? What do you mean?" she said.

"Come on! We need to go find them," Mathias said, tugging Iona behind him. All three pirates dashed into the building, evading authorities until they finally reached the four crafts, just as Mircea jumped out.

"Mircea! _Oh ma God, ye'r alive! Oh ma God, oh ma God, oh ma God! Urr ye okay? Urr ye hurt at a'? Whit happened? Dinnae hain ony aw the info. Did a' body mak' it oot alive? Och thank God ye'r okay Ah dinnae think Ah would've kent whit tae dae wi' masell if you'd died, oh ma God,_" Iona yelled, running towards the strawberry blond. She tackled him in a flying hug, knocking him to the ground so that she landed on top of him. Mircea grinned from ear to ear and wrapped his arms around Iona, kissing her on the lips.

"_Entschuldigen Sie mich,_ but what's going on here?" a policeman asked the pair, who were still lying on the ground. Iona came to her senses at that point, turning beet red and leaping up. She brushed off her long black skirt and extended a hand to Mircea, who looked a little dazed.

"I apologise for that, sir. I was just very excited to see my...er...my—"

"I'm her fiance, is what my darling Margaret is trying to say," Mircea said in an English accent, putting an arm around Iona protectively.

"Yes, sorry officer. I was just so worried. I couldn't believe it when I saw my fiance's company's ship being attacked, oh it was horrifying! I thought I'd never get to see Mir again," Iona said in an equally English accent. She buried half of her face in Mircea's side, playing the part of the worried fianceé. The officer turned red.

"Yes, well, we're glad to see that you're all okay. Where are the captains of the vessels we just witnessed being shot down?"

Mircea pointed back towards the vessels as Gilbert climbed out, his hair slicked back and his eyes now a vibrant blue.

"_Danke,_ sir," the officer said, turning to walk towards the others.

"Wait a second...Mircea?" a voice called from behind them. Mircea and Iona wheeled around, and Iona noticed that Mircea looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Viktor? Is that you?" the Romanian said, squinting.

"_Това си ти!_ Oh my God, I don't believe it!" Viktor cried, running towards them. Mircea released Iona, and the Scotswoman watched in amusement as the two men embraced, clapping each other on the back and speaking in their respective languages.

"_Prietenul meu!_ You're the Bulgarian they were talking about? How could I not have known?" Mircea said, a smile dancing on his face.

"You should've known, you fool. I joined Carriedo's crew, remember?" Viktor said. Mircea turned bright red as he considered the Bulgarian's words.

"You never know. They could've picked up another."

"How are you? It's been forever," Viktor said.

_For a pair that haven't seen each other in 'forever,' they certainly know how to pick up where they left off,_ Iona thought, smiling. She didn't mind that they'd walked away without her. She'd heard all of Mircea's stories about his best friend, a Bulgarian named Viktor, and she honestly wondered how she hadn't made the connection sooner.

Iona looked up just in time to catch Viktor looking at her in a way that made her shiver. It wasn't the sort of look that creepy old men gave young girls who's clothing was a little too tight or too short. It was the look of a man with a dangerous secret, and immediately, Iona knew he was up to something.


	14. Chapter 14: I'm Never Going Back—

**Berlin, Germany—March 6th, 1890—16:00**

**Captain Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland**

Arthur didn't entirely know what to do with himself. Punching things and shouting abuse at people hadn't helped calm the storm that raged inside of him, and despite being on his third pint of beer, the pain of losing his ship had not dulled even a little.

"Oh God, this is a nightmare," he wailed. The only person who reacted in the slightest was Amelia, who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, only to have it pushed away by the despondent Englishman.

"It'll be okay, Arthur. You can get yourself a new ship!" the American said, putting on a cheery smile.

"Just leave me here to die. I should've gone down with my ship," Arthur mumbled, finishing off his pint. "You, wench over there—Bring me another pint!"

The barmaid glared at him, but complied, muttering under her breath in German.

"Um, Arthur, I really think you need to take it easy on the alcohol. It's not going to make anything better, and really, it's just going to destroy your liver," Amelia said nervously, carefully inching the pint away from her companion.

"I don't care. My beautiful lady's been destroyed by those damn bloody Russians and I've lost everything!"

"Arthur-san, I think you should listen to Miss Jones. Plus, I heard that Bonnefoy, Carriedo, and Beilschmidt are also here in the city, and I'm sure they'll be out for blood. You need to be as alert as possible," Kiku added. Amelia leaned over and mouthed, "Thanks," before handing the Japanese man Arthur's drink.

"Let them. I deserve to die! It's no wonder my parents always left me with my siblings, and Alistair went and joined the Air Force and Embra ran away. Who would want to be around a failure like me?" Arthur cried, his words slurred.

"No, don't say that! None of that is true, you big dummy! I'm sure they all had other reasons. Come on, let's get you to that corner table over there, where you can't order any more drinks," Amelia said, draping one of Arthur's arms over her shoulders, Kiku doing the same on the other side. They helped their captain to the table Amelia had pointed out, and Kiku informed the staff of the bar that they were not allowed to offer Arthur alcohol.

The Englishman sat there for a while, staring down at his lap and occasionally sipping from the glass of water Amelia had procured for him.

Kiku noticed a pair of men sitting at a nearby table who looked oddly familiar, and yet, he couldn't quite put his finger on why. They would watch Arthur in his drunken state every once in a while before whispering to each other. Kiku did not like the look of them.

"We're going to need a new ship," Arthur finally said after an hour had passed. His eyes were much clearer and he seemed much less intoxicated.

"Come again?" Kiku said evenly.

"That damn Braginsky isn't getting away with what he did to my ship. By God, we're finding ourselves a new vessel and setting out for Russia because nobody destroys a ship of the British Empire and lives to tell the tale," Arthur growled.

Kiku saw the two men get up and walk towards them out of the corner of his eye.

"Excuse me, and I'm sorry to have been eavesdropping, but I couldn't help but overhear what you just said. You wouldn't happen to be the great Sky Privateer Captain Arthur Kirkland, would you?" one young man said in a Hungarian accent. His eyes were a forest green colour, and his long brown hair was tied back with a flower-covered ribbon.

"H-how did you come to that conclusion?" Arthur stammered, looking faintly alarmed. He was now completely sober.

"Because I heard you talking about an attack from the Russian Federation. You see, we were on the other ships, _The Corazón _and_ Der Adler,_ so it's safe to assume that you were on _The English Rose_. Now, you're the only man here with an English accent, so by process of elimination, we figured that you must be Kirkland. We've been sent here by our bosses. I'm Daniel, Gilbert Beilschmidt's radioman and first mate, and my friend here is Viktor Aleksandrov, Antonio Carriedo's engineer. We have a message for you, Captain Kirkland," the Hungarian said. Arthur eyed the two men carefully. Viktor Aleksandrov looked like a man who had something up his sleeve that he didn't plan to share any time soon. It made him shiver a little.

"What do those creeps want with us? Can't you tell that Captain Kirkland's not in any state to be doing deals with your loser captains?" Amelia cried, jumping between the two men and her captain.

"Look, we mean no harm. We've been sent for a peaceful mission. Captains Beilschmidt, Bonnefoy, and Carriedo wish to speak with you, Captain Kirkland. You can check us for weapons if you'd like, but I guarantee you won't find any. We're just here to deliver the message," the second man, a Bulgarian, said, putting up his hands in the universal gesture of innocence, though the glint in his eyes seemed to tell a different story.

"What do those gits want to talk to me about?" Arthur grumbled.

"Revenge on the Russians," Daniel hissed, stepping around Amelia and leaning across the table. This caught the attention of the entire crew of _The English Rose_, with the exception of Stefan, who sat by himself on a windowsill, drawing on old receipts the bartender had given him.

"Go on," Arthur said, his glower quickly being replaced by a grin.

"Come to this address at 20:00. You won't be disappointed," Viktor said, dropping a piece of paper onto the table.

"We'll take our leave now. Just remember, only you and your first mate come to this meeting, and you come unarmed. Oh, and Captain Kirkland?" Daniel said, standing up straight and turning towards the door.

"What?"

"Iona says hello."

With that, Daniel and Viktor were gone, leaving Arthur to stare after them, completely speechless.

"Well, Captain, are you going to go?" Sadik asked.

"Yes, Sadik, I do believe I will," Arthur replied, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Amelia demanded.

"To my room. I must look my best," Arthur said, disappearing up the stairs.

**Brandenburg Gate—March 6th, 1890—20:00**

**Captain Francis Bonnefoy**

"Do you think he'll show up? It's 20:00 now, and there's still no sign of him," Francis said, leaning up against a pillar of the giant structure.

"Yes, I do, if only because he's so damned prideful that he'll show up just to gloat about how he struck down Toni's ship," Gilbert snarled, looking intimidating as he stood in the central opening of the gate, the image of some Prussian god of vengeance with the statue of Victory high above his head.

"I gave him the message, Captain Beilschmidt," Daniel said, picking at his nails.

All three captains hovered around the Brandenburg, their first mates seated on the ground in a small circle. It had not escaped Francis' notice that the surly Hungarian man had replaced Ja—Embra—as first mate, and he looked at Matthew who had been promoted in Vash's absence. They were a sorry bunch, that was for certain.

"Well, if he doesn't show up in two minutes, I'm leaving. I have some disciplinary matters to attend to," Gilbert huffed. The way he said it made Francis' blood run a little colder.

"That won't be necessary, chaps. I'm here, and I'm trusting you and your band of miscreants to not cause me or Mister Honda any harm," a voice behind one of the pillars said. Arthur Kirkland walked into view followed by a short Japanese man.

"Glad you could make it, _Sourcils_," Francis taunted, waggling his own eyebrows.

"What did you just call me, Frog?" Arthur growled.

"At least I'm an attractive frog who can actually cook, unlike you with your hard-as-rock scones and overly cooked meat, not to mention your completely unstylish haircut," Francis sneered.

"At least I'm a man," Arthur spit.

"Oh, I'm a man, too. Just ask your sister. She'll tell y—"

"Finish that sentence, and so help me God, Francis, I will string you up the flagpole of the Reichstag by your dick and leave you there for the entirety of Prussia to see," Gilbert snarled, just as Arthur yelled, "Don't you dare bring Embra into this!"

"Will all of you be quiet and behave? We're here for a reason," Ludwig barked. All four captains stared at him for a moment.

"Right, sorry. Anyways, why did you three call me here?" Arthur said, regaining his composure and fixing the trio with an icy look.

"We have a proposition for you, Captain Kirkland," Ludwig said, stepping in front of the other three captains.

"So your emissaries told me."

"You want revenge on Braginsky?"

"Yes."

"So do we," Ludwig said with the air of a diplomat, "We have reason to believe he's been following all of us, waiting to attack for a while, perhaps because your ship is technically part of the British Royal Air Force fleet. Why he would target a bunch of pirates, we don't know, but still, he shot down one of us, meaning he shot down all of us, and dammit, we want to know why. I'm sure that this isn't the most appetizing proposal, but what would you think about joining your crew with all three of ours? As it stands, none of us can defeat him on our own, but perhaps if we go against him as a united front, we can win."

"Hell no! Why would I ever want to work with you scoundrels? I'm a gentleman, not some highway bandit," Arthur cried.

"Think about it, Captain Kirkland. If Braginsky and the rest of the Russian Federation see that they can shoot down ships at random with impunity, who knows how long it will be before they start moving into western Europe, including Britain?" Daniel said.

"I will not. Thank you all for wasting my time, goodnight," Arthur yelled, turning to leave.

"Very well, Arthur, but if you change your mind, go to the Honigmond Inn and ask for Margaret Macdonald. You have until tomorrow at 23:59," Gilbert said.

"Do you think he'll take us up on it?" Antonio asked once Arthur was out of earshot.

"I'm not sure. We can only hope," Francis sighed. The six men made their way back to the hotel where most of them were staying, a place halfway between the hospital and the Aerodrome which was completely pirate-friendly.

"Gil, didn't you say that you had some disciplinary business to take care of?" Antonio said innocently. Francis shook his head.

_Oh, Toni, if only you knew..._ he thought. For as long as he'd known the Prussian, Gilbert's temper had always disturbed Francis, and the previous morning had been no exception. it hadn't taken long for Francis to get over the shock of finding out that James had just been an alias for the past five years, especially not when Francis had seen the unbridled anger in Gilbert's eyes. He shuddered to think what Gilbert had in mind for Embra.

"_Ja_. I have to stop by the Honigmond. I'll see you all in the morning," Gilbert said, his eyes steely.

The Prussian man broke off from the group as they approached the hotel where Viktor, Mathias, and Embra were staying, giving the others one final wave before walking through one of the doors.

**Honigmond Inn—March 6th, 1890—21:30**

**Navigator Mathias Køhler**

"Yo, Captain! How goes it?" Mathias called as Gilbert walked into the living area that adjoined Mathias', Viktor's, and Embra's rooms.

"Go to your bedroom, Mathias. No arguing," Gilbert barked without sparing a glance at the Dane. The venom in his tone made Mathias want to hide, so he obeyed the command.

"Embra, get out here now!" Gilbert yelled. Through the crack he'd left, Mathias could see the Scotswoman enter the living area, her wet hair piled into a messy bun on the top of her head. She wore only a light pink dressing gown.

"Aye? What's so important that it requires you yelling? Do you want hotel management to come up here?" she said politely.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Gilbert snapped.

"About what?"

"First, you disobey a direct order, then you fail to warn us of an impending attack even though I'm sure you knew about it, and then you start snogging Mircea, knowing fully well I'm right there. Not only have you violated at least a dozen rules as a member of the crew, you've also violated a dozen rules as my girlfriend!"

Embra stared at him coldly, her grey eyes flashing.

"I did what I had to. Me coming into the city as a woman was much more believable than me coming as a man. I 'snogged' Mircea because it was an **act**. Otherwise, the police would've been suspicious. Sorry for trying to protect your arse, I won't do it again. Plus, after being part of the crew for five years, I deserve to make my own decisions about how I dress. I'm tired of being your little doll, Gilbert. Also, for the record, I had no idea the attack was coming aside from a knot in my stomach which could have easily been attributed to any number of events that have occurred in the past twenty-four hours."

Gilbert narrowed his red eyes at her, and Mathias was almost worried that his glare would slice the young woman in half.

"Doesn't matter. I'm the captain and you do what I say."

"Doesn't matter. I'm my own person, and I listen to nobody, especially not possessive, immature, egotistical monsters like yourself," Embra taunted. That must've set something off in Gilbert's brain, because next thing anyone knew, he leapt at the young woman and tackled her, punching her in the gut.

"What did you say you little bitch? What did you call me? You should've learned your lesson yesterday morning! I should've just shot you then and there," he yelled, swiping at Embra's face before punching her a second time.

Embra didn't struggle or fight, choosing instead to simply lie there, taking the abuse with a stoic face.

"Aren't you going to fight, you whore? Aren't you going to say anything?" Gilbert snarled, swiping at her face again, leaving angry red claws marks on her cheek.

"We're done, Gilbert," was all she said, but it was enough to make Gilbert freeze.

"W-what?" he stammered, surprised at the evenness of her voice.

"You heard me. We're done. I'm not yours anymore. Honestly, I never have been. You've always been a brother to me, and I told you as much yesterday. I thought I loved you for a while, but it turns out that I'd just tricked myself into thinking that in the first few years after Alistair's death. I didn't need you. I just needed an anchor. I don't love you, Gil. Not like that. You can hit me and injure me all you want, but it's not going to change anything. I won't come running back to you. I'll continue to be part of the crew, but I'm not going to be your girlfriend any longer," Embra said, locking eyes with the captain.

Gilbert's face softened, and he climbed off of Embra with a mournful look.

"Em...I'm sorry...I didn't mean—"

"No, Gil. This is it. I'm tired of being your possession. I want to be free."

Embra picked herself up off the ground, adjusting her dressing gown and walking over to the open bathroom to get something for the marks on her face which were now bleeding profusely.

"But—"

"NO, Gil. No means no. You have bigger things to worry about than a rogue Scotswoman. Resign yourself to the idea that we're just friends now. Period. Go get some rest. You've lost a lot more than a girlfriend," Embra said, pressing a wet towel to her cheek as she walked back into the main room. Her eyes were twin storms, icy and devoid of any joy, making both Mathias and Gilbert jump.

"_Ja._ Meet at the Brandenburg Gate tomorrow morning at 10:00. We need to find a ship large enough to hold all three crews," Gilbert sighed, giving Embra one last baleful stare before turning to leave.

"Goodnight, Captain Beilschmidt," Embra said.

Gilbert left, and Mathias felt that it was now safe to come back out.

"Hey, Embra, you okay? Can I get your anything?" he said. Embra said nothing, but walked over and buried her face in his chest, dropping the towel on the floor as she walked.

Mathias didn't even care about the fact that she was bleeding onto his shirt. She was family for all intents and purposes, and family did whatever was needed for family.

"Shhh. There, there. Everything will work out in the end. What do you need?" the Dane whispered. He felt like he was back home with his own real family, remembering all the times he had comforted his best friend's little sister, Ingrid, after she had fallen while trying to play with the big kids.

"I'm going to call Mircea, okay? Are you fine with that? I think Viktor said that he needed to make a call somewhere, so he won't be back till late, but I wanted to make sure you're fine with me having a guest," Embra said into his shirt.

Mathias pulled back and put on his best big brother face.

"That's fine so long as clothing stays on the entire night, and he leaves by 10:00 tomorrow morning. And if I hear even a bit of yelling, I'm throwing him out, got it? This boy'd better treat you right, or else Big Brother Mathias will come get him!" he chuckled, earning a laugh from the Scotswoman.

"Yes sir!" she said, giggling through her tears.

"And how about I phone him? Let's not add any more fuel to the captain's fire," Mathias suggested.

"That sounds good to me. Good thinking."

**Honigmond Inn—March 6th, 1890—23:00**

**Alexandru Mircea Bălan**

Mircea cursed himself for taking so long to make it over to the Honigmond. Even more so, he cursed the captain for not booking everybody in the posh hotel. By the time the Romanian man made it to the hotel, the streets were filled with drunkards and groups of people enjoying their evenings, and Mircea found it all a little overwhelming.

_Not helped at all by the fact that Mathias said it was urgent_, he thought to himself. The moment he had received the call from the Danish man, asking him to come over, Mircea had done everything at twice the speed he normally did.

"350, 350, 350, ah! There we go!" he muttered. He gave three sharp knocks on the door, which swung open by itself.

"Hello? Anybody home or am I about to get attacked by _strigoi_?" he called.

"I'm in here!" someone squeaked from the bathroom. Mircea heard the sound of running water and swearing, and followed it to the source.

"Iona? What's going on?" he said, looking around at the luxurious hotel room.

Iona turned around, holding something to her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, and it was obvious that she'd been crying. Mircea noticed deep purple bruises through the thin fabric of her dressing gown, and he could see a cut across her collarbone.

"_Dumnezeule! Ce naiba sa întâmplat?"_ he exclaimed, not even thinking about which language he was using. He rushed over to her side just as she took what Mircea noted was a wet towel away from her cheek, revealing four long scratches.

"Holy shit, Iona! You're hurt! What the fuck?" he yelled. Iona clamped her other hand over his mouth.

"Will you stop screaming? I've had enough of it in the past two days," she hissed.

"Sorry," Mircea said sheepishly. He followed Iona over to the fluffy-looking bed, sitting down beside her. "But really, what happened? Who hurt you like this? Let me go beat them within an inch of their pathetic life and then make the rest of that life hell! Tell me!"

Iona shook her head, tears running down her face. Mircea gathered her up into his arms, holding her there while sobs racked her body.

"Iona...what happened to you?" he whispered, running his hand up and down her back comfortingly.

Finally, Iona extricated herself from his embrace and returned to her own spot on the side of the bed, using her arm to wipe away any tears still left on her face.

"Gilbert and I exchanged...words," she said, obviously trying to find the right way to phrase her statement. She avoided Mircea's gaze, opting instead to fiddle with the sleeve of her gown.

"Looks like he gave you more than just words," Mircea said, reaching out to brush aside the top of her dressing gown and touch one of the bruises on her shoulder.

"I'm fine, Mir. Don't worry. I'm alive," Iona said, moving away from his hand and tugging her robe back into place. Mircea noted with a start that she wasn't actually wearing anything under it.

"Iona, you have scrapes and cuts and bruises all over your body. You're not fine. Even if you didn't have all the physical injuries, your mind is screaming right now. I can hear it," Mircea said softly.

"I knew I shouldn't have taught you how to read minds," Iona said with a small laugh.

"I'm glad you did. God, Iona, look at yourself! You look like you've been in a fight with a wild animal! Did you just lie there and let him do this?"

"Yes, I did. I saw no point in fighting back when he had the advantage."

"He could've killed you."

"He threatened to."

"What stopped him?"

"I broke up with him," Iona said, finally meeting Mircea's worried eyes.

"You what?" Mircea asked in disbelief. His heart felt like it was ready to soar, but he wanted to hear her say it again.

"I ended things with him. I'm not his girlfriend anymore. It's over," she repeated, and Mircea had to fight the smile that wanted to erupt on his face.

"Was that before or after he nearly beat you to death?" he growled.

"After. Once I told him that, he backed off and tried to salvage things, but it was too late. Mircea, I feel so free now. I'm finally rid of that awful relationship!" Iona said. Her eyes were beginning to regain their sparkle, and that more than anything made Mircea smile brightly. He threw one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"Freedom is good, but won't you get lonely?" he said.

"Not in the least. I have the crew! I have you. It's hard to be lonely when your best friend is always a few feet away," she laughed, lightly punching his side.

"Good point, and we're supposed to be getting even more new members of our family!" Mircea said.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Iona said, looking at him quizzically.

"Well, you know how our crew is joining up with Antonio's and Francis'?"

"Yes...And?"

"They met with Kirkland earlier and offered him the option of joining. He said no, but I think he's going to change his mind."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Daniel may or may not have name dropped you..."

"How much you going to bet me?"

"My eternal love and friendship?"

"Good enough," Iona smirked, poking Mircea in the side. This earned a yelp from the Romanian, who responded in kind by grabbing one of Iona's feet and running a finger up the bottom of it. Soon enough, the two had dissolved into a pile of giggles and yelps, all traces of tears gone.

Finally, they heard a knock on the door joining Iona's room to the central living area.

"Hey, you two, remember, we do have somewhere to be tomorrow. Mircea, if you're spending the night, I suggest you go ahead and find yourself a place to sleep!" Mathias called.

Iona leapt up and ran over to her bag, grabbing a nightgown before ducking into the bathroom.

Mircea removed his favourite red coat, his shirt, and his shoes, and climbed under the covers.

"Oh no, you are not sleeping in here," Iona said, standing over him.

"But, but, but, I want to!" he cried.

Iona placed both hands on her hips and thought for a moment. Mircea gave her his best kicked-puppy look.

"Oh, alright, but only if you promise not to hog the covers!" she finally said. Mircea shifted over, allowing the redhead to join him under the covers.

"I hope you know that this is a one time thing," Iona hissed as she curled up next to him.

"As you wish," Mircea said, throwing an arm across her midsection and pulling her close.

Iona reached up and snapped her fingers, extinguishing all of the lights in the room.

"Show off," Mircea teased, smiling contently as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Goodnight, Mir," Iona whispered.

"Goodnight, Iona."


	15. Chapter 15: Pure as a Wedding Dress

**Berlin, Germany—March 7th, 1890—12:00**

**Captain Arthur Kirkland**

"You left the message at the Honigmond, right, Mister Anan?" Arthur said irritably.

"You betcha! I even followed the lady behind the desk up to the room and watched as she gave the message to this tall blond guy with a funny hairstyle, just to be sure!" Sadik said proudly.

"Good. I'm sure they'll contact us within the hour. Now then, go find me something else to wear. I very well can't be walking around Berlin looking like a pirate," Arthur sniffed. The engineer nodded and hurried off.

"So we're really joining up with them?" Lukas asked, idly drumming his fingers on the table.

"It would seem so. I'm not particularly happy about it either, but it's a necessary evil," Arthur replied, taking a long sip of tea. His head was pounding and everything seemed to be getting on his nerves.

"Do we even know who's on those crews?" Emil added, looking from his older brother to the captain with masked curiosity.

"We know a handful, but I suppose we'll be finding out the rest of them tonight," Lukas said. Emil let out a grunt and buried his head in his arms on the table.

Arthur looked around at his crew. They were a very sorry sight to see. Even Stefan, who was usually a ball of sunshine and singing, looked like he was about to pass out where he stood without even having said a single word the entire day. They needed a morale booster something bad.

"Hey, Artie, you okay there? You're kinda staring off into space," Amelia said, waving a hand in front of Arthur's face. Arthur snapped back to reality and blinked a few times, feeling his face turn a little red.

"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just thinking," he said. Amelia plopped down into a chair next to him, staring at him with wide blue eyes.

"Thinking about how we're gonna totally save the day and crush those Commies without the help of those other three losers? Cause, you know, I am the hero and I've got a plan!" Amelia said, nearly yelling in Arthur's ear.

"Amelia, could you please bring your voice down a little? My head already hurts," Arthur sighed.

"Sorry," she squeaked, shrinking back in her chair a bit.

"That's quite alright, just be mindful."

"So are you thinking up some grand plan, or do you wanna hear mine? I'm not gonna brag or anything, but it's pretty great," Amelia said with a sly grin.

"No, Amelia, I'm neither thinking up any sort of 'grand plan,' nor do I wish to hear whatever wild scheme you've got."

"But—"

"No, Amelia. Those three idiots have extended the olive branch, and by God, we can't afford to reject it or betray it in any way right now. The only way anyone's going to get any sort of revenge on the Russians is by working together, much as it pains me to say so," Arthur huffed.

"Captain, not to quote your least favourite Shakespeare play, but, 'by the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes,'" Lukas broke in, pointing towards the door. Arthur felt his stomach drop as he saw just who approached.

Iona hadn't changed much in the five years since he'd seen her, though she now sported claw marks down her left cheek, and her hair was a little bit longer. She still walked with a regality she'd inherited from their mother, and Arthur could see the tempest of emotions swirling in her light eyes. She was accompanied by a smiling young man who matched Sadik's description of the man who'd received the message at the hotel.

"Excuse me, but I'm looking for an Arthur Kirkland. He's about this tall," she said to Kiku, indicating Arthur's approximate height with her hand, "and he has scraggly blond hair and God-awful eyebrows. Do you know where I might find him?"

Kiku shot a glance towards Arthur.

"I do believe you're looking for me, Miss," Arthur said in his most gentlemanly manner, though anger boiled just under the surface.

"Oh, let me have a look at you, Artie-lad," she drawled in her Scottish burr. She gave him a close-lipped smile akin to what their mother used to give him when she thought he was being cute.

"Sod off, Miss. I have no idea who you are, and my name is Arthur, not 'Artie,'" Arthur growled. Iona looked hurt for a split second, but quickly gathered herself back up.

"Don't be like that, Arthur. C'mere and give your dear big sister a hug," Iona said, opening her arms. Arthur stepped forward as if to accept her embrace.

"_Pruina_," he whispered. A long shard of ice appeared in his hand, and he jumped back, pointing it at his sister.

"What are you doing here, Iona?" he said, holding the tip of the ice to the young woman's throat.

"I'm gone for five bloody years and I come back to find you a complete hardass? Please tell me that this is not how you usually behave, Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland," Iona huffed.

"I won't even dignify that with an actual response, Iona Margaret Kirkland-Mackenzie," Arthur spat. "But really, why the bloody hell are you here? You have thirty seconds to state your business before I hex you." He continued to hold the piece of ice to her throat.

"I came to give you a message, _**Arthur**_, from Captains Bonnefoy, Beilschmidt, and Carriedo. Come to the Aerodrome at 23:50. We choose a ship, and set off for Russia tonight," Iona hissed, grabbing the piece of ice in one hand. Her eyes briefly turned silver, and the icicle melted. "Oh, and Arthur, dear? Bring your entire crew. You won't be returning to the inn."

She and the blond man left, leaving Arthur speechless and a little confused.

"Well, you heard the witch, go pack up your stuff. We leave tonight," Arthur said.

Amelia walked up to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Arthur, calm down. You're shaking," she said, looking him in the eye.

"After all these years...five bloody years, and now she decides to show her face just to give me a message," Arthur said to no one in particular. Rather than ceasing, his shaking got worse, and Amelia almost worried that his legs were going to give out. She enveloped him in a hug, stroking his hair.

"Arthur, breathe. You need to breathe. Shhhh," she soothed.

"What did I do to deserve such a punishment?" Arthur sighed, standing up straight and fixing his shirt. Amelia looked at him with worried eyes.

"Maybe it's not a punishment. Maybe it's a second chance," she said, giving him a small smile.

"Bollocks. Anyway, I need to go prepare. Will you accompany me to my bedroom, Miss Jones?"

Arthur watched as Amelia turned a vivd red, floundering for words before recovering.

"Duh! Of course I'll help you pack! I mean who wouldn't want to have me around?" she exclaimed.

"Don't get into too much trouble, you crazy kids!" Sadik yelled with a suggestive grin.

Amelia's face got even darker, and Arthur shot the engineer a look that would freeze hell two times over.

**March 7th, 1890—20:00**

**Amelia F. Jones**

Amelia lounged around on the large king bed, watching with an amused expression as Arthur pack up the items he had salvaged from the ship. She found herself feeling thankful that she hadn't had many possessions on _The English Rose_ and therefore hadn't had to carry around very much.

"Amelia, could you be a dear and pass me that hat?" Arthur said, not bothering to look at the American woman. Amelia grabbed his captain's hat and threw it at him.

"How in the world did you manage to save all this stuff? Given what you've told me about your life before piracy—"

"I'm not a pirate. I'm a privateer."

"Okay, privateer, whatever. What I'm trying to say is that it doesn't make any sense that you have all of this crap. What is all of it?" Amelia said.

"Mementoes. I try to keep something from every raid or battle I've won."

"Yeah, but how did you manage to grab it all before we evacuated?"

"I kept it in a central location. When you have as many enemies as I do, you learn to keep your valuables in a place you can easily access if you have to abandon ship," Arthur sniffed. Amelia rolled over onto her back, keeping her head turned towards Arthur.

"So if these are from all your travels...where'd you get that?" she said, nodding to a gold cross with a loop on top.

"You mean the ankh?" Arthur said with a tone of disdain.

"Yeah, that thing."

"I got it from a den of thieves in Egypt. They tried to bring down my ship, so I staged a small rebellion within the group by spreading rumours. I didn't even have to get my hands dirty; they did it for me," Arthur said, picking up the ankh and turning it over in his hand.

"Huh. That's cool. What about this thing?" Amelia said, grabbing a bronze globe with small sections of etched glass.

"Careful with that, Amelia. That's an old Vietnamese magic man's spirit ball. It is said that it holds the angry spirits of the magic man's enemies, and if you break one of the glass sections, you unleash those spirits upon the world."

Amelia's eyebrows shot up, and she carefully set the globe back down on a nearby pillow.

"I'm not sure I want to know how you managed to get your hands on that," she said. Arthur chuckled a little. They continued the pattern of Amelia picking things and asking Arthur about them for an hour, laughing about all of Arthur's wild adventures as a privateer and the sorts of hijinks he had gotten up to in the past three years.

Finally, Arthur packed the last of his souvenirs into a bag with a satisfied grunt and a smile.

"There we go. Everything's all ready," he said, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge.

"Hey, Arthur?" Amelia said.

"Yes?"

"What's the best thing you've ever picked up on your travels, and I mean the absolute greatest thing that, now that you have, you couldn't live without?" Amelia asked, looking up at Arthur with sparkling blue eyes. The Englishman sat and thought for many moments, occasionally staring at the large box in which all of his things were packed before looking down at Amelia.

"There are lots of things that I could say, honestly. It changes from week to week. Some days, I think it's the ring I stole from a castle in the Highlands of Scotland. Other times, I'm nearly convinced that it's the crown of a Chinese emperor I won in a duel. It all depends upon when you ask me," Arthur replied gently, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a shy grin.

"What is it right now?" Amelia said, blowing a blonde curl from her face.

_You_, Arthur thought, but quickly shook the idea away.

"The rose that gave my ship its name," he said, pointing to a flower sitting in a vase on the windowsill. Its petals were a deeper red than any other rose Amelia had ever seen, and it almost seemed to glow with an ethereal light in the afternoon sunlight.

"How is that thing still alive? You've had your ship for what, like, three years?" Amelia said in disbelief.

Arthur laughed quietly. "Would you believe me if I told you it was enchanted?"

"Like, with magic?"

"Yes, with magic."

"How'd you convince some wizard to do that for you?"

"Because I'm the wizard that did it."

"Wait...you mean you have magic?" Amelia gasped, her eyes wide.

"Yes. It runs on both sides of my family. All six of us kids showed the trait from a very early age. Did you not see that exchange with my sister earlier? Or have you never seen the odd things that used to lie around the ship? I thought it was pretty clear that there were two wizards onboard," Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh...I guess I never looked closely enough."

"That's quite alright, Amelia, dear."

"What I want to know is why? Why'd you keep some random flower?"

Arthur thought for a moment.

"You know how you had asked me about reminders of my family?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"That rose has actually been in bloom since 1885. Call me morbid, but it was part of the funerary decorations at my parents' funeral. My brother, Sean, plucked it from one of the wreathes for me when nobody was looking, because, at the time, he was teaching me various spells to keep things 'eternally beautiful,' as he often told me. I brought it with me to the Academy—" he started.

"And you named your ship after it," Amelia finished, reaching up to touch Arthur's cheek, letting her slightly tanned hand rest there for a moment. Arthur leaned into her touch and covered her hand with his own.

"Yes, I named my ship after it. My parents weren't always the best, but they were still my parents. They put up with me and my five siblings for all those years, after all," Arthur laughed sadly.

Amelia sat up suddenly, locking eyes with the green-eyed Brit.

"Did you manage to save the journal with all of those letters and photographs?" she asked urgently.

Arthur stared at her for a moment, looking faintly puzzled.

"Yes, but how did you—"

"The other day, when I woke up in your room, I, well, I got curious and sort of started snooping around. I swear I didn't break anything!"

Arthur's smile returned, making Amelia's heart soar a little.

"No need to be sorry, Love. I suppose I've already told you most of what you could glean from those silly pieces of paper."

"Wait...did you just call me—" Amelia wasn't able to finish her sentence because just at that moment, Arthur closed the gap between them and quieted her with his lips against hers. At first, Amelia had no idea how to react. She'd never been kissed before, and the unbridled passion and emotion behind Arthur's kiss was almost overwhelming to the point that Amelia's brain simply shut off. After a few moments' hesitation, she eagerly responded, kissing him back with just as much fervor. The feeling of his lips on hers sent a flurry of excitement through the young woman's veins, and the way he tangled his fingers in her golden curls drove her, as Arthur would put it, 'pure dead batty.'

Six months of pent-up feelings and attraction all seemed to erupt in the span of five minutes, and before either of them knew what was happening, Arthur had pushed Amelia back onto the bed. Suddenly, even her midriff-baring shirt and short, tight skirt felt like too much clothing, and all of his captain's garb especially agitated the American.

"My God, Amelia, you don't know how long I've been wanting to do that," Arthur sighed, breathing heavily as he looked down at her.

"Couldn't have put it better myself, Artie," Amelia giggled, threading her hands through his wild mop of hair.

"I'm not sure, but I may actually be falling for you," the Englishman said with a hopeful look. Amelia grinned widely, and her heart felt as though it would burst from her chest.

"Funny, because I was just thinking the same thing," she whispered. Arthur smiled and took this as his cue to kiss her again.

The two of them made a mad scramble to remove every piece of clothing that separated their bodies, and before long, the saw each other plain.

"Bloody hell, Amy," Arthur gasped, "you're beautiful." His eyes raked over her long, slender form. A light blush dusted the young woman's cheeks.

Amelia let her hands roam free over Arthur's body, leaving no ounce of pale skin untouched. She could feel the desire building in her, something which she made very clearly known.

They moved together, so intertwined that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began, and, Amelia thought, it was everything she'd always dreamed it would be.

When they both collapsed, exhausted but fulfilled and ecstatic, it seemed as though the entire world stopped, and it was just the two of them.

Amelia's midsection hurt from the strenuous activity pulling at her stitches, but she honestly didn't care because she was much too happy.

They lay there for what seemed like an eternity, still trying to wrap their minds around what had just occurred. In the meantime, the light outside changed, going from

"So...does this mean—" Amelia asked, her breathing still uneven.

"Absolutely, my dear," Arthur replied, pulling her even closer to him.

A knock on the door broke them from their reverie.

"Captain Kirkland," came a small voice. They heard the doorknob turn.

"Don't open the door just yet, Stefan. What do you need?" Arthur said, sitting up and grabbing his pants from the floor.

"Mister Kiku said that it's almost time to head over to the Aerodrome if we want to be completely on time," Stefan said. Amelia glanced at the clock and nearly fell out of the bed. It was already 21:30.

"Is the rest of the crew all packed up and ready?" Arthur said, the commanding edge returning to his voice.

"Yes sir! We're just waiting on you and Miss Amelia!"

"We'll be down in a few moments. Miss Jones just needed some help with her own baggage."

"Okay! See you downstairs, Captain!"

They listened as Stefan ran back down the stairs of the inn, and both released a breath they hadn't meant to hold.

"He's adorable, Artie. Where in the world did you find a kid like him?" Amelia said, putting on her own clothing.

"Bucharest. He was an orphan living on ships docked at the Aerodrome there, along with Mister Anan, and I caught Stefan trying to sneak onto the _Rose_. I asked him what in the world he was doing and he directed me to Sadik, and—"

"A lot of your crew members seem to be people you caught sneaking into various places of importance," Amelia interrupted, earning a half-hearted glare form her companion.

"As I was saying, when I asked him what he was doing and who he was, he told me that he needed a place to live because his older brother, Mircea, had recently left him with Sadik when Mircea joined Beilschmidt's crew in hopes of providing for the child, so I did the logical thing and asked him to be my cabin boy while asking Sadik to be my engineer."

"Well, he's freaking adorable. When I get married, if I get married, I want a kid like him," Amelia cooed.

"It's a little early to be thinking of that," he said, walking over to her and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Well, we should probably take this stuff downstairs and get going. If your little scuffle with your sister earlier was any indication, I think we're going to want to be as prompt and well-mannered as possible with these guys," Amelia said, wrapping her arms around Arthur's waist.

**Berlin Aerodrome—March 7th, 1890—23:30**

**Captain Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland**

"There's our favourite grumpy _Anglais_," Francis called as he saw Arthur and the crew of _The English Rose_ enter the aerodrome.

"Glad that you could make it, _amigo_," Antonio said cheerily, though it was obvious from his red-rimmed eyes that he'd been either drinking or crying recently, perhaps even both.

"_Ja, willkommen_," Gilbert mumbled, though he certainly did not seem pleased at the thought of Arthur's crew joining his.

"I brought my men, as well as my girlfriend, so where are your rag-tag crews?" Arthur taunted, noting the distinct lack of anyone behind the three other captains.

"They're off looking for a ship big enough for all of us. Believe it or not, that's not particularly easy to come by," Francis replied with a sniff.

"Plus, Iona and Berwald are off getting Vash from the hospital," Antonio added.

Arthur twitched a little at the mention of his sister's name.

"So she really is a pirate..." he muttered.

"What can we do to help y'all?" Amelia said, stepping up from behind Arthur. The trio looked her up and down once, wondering if this was the girlfriend Arthur had spoken of.

"Stand guard, make sure no one except those with a bracelet like this," Gilbert said, holding up his pale wrist to show off a small band of red leather, "comes in."

"You heard the demon," Arthur barked, calling his men to attention, "Sadik and Emil, you two will be at the entrance to the drome. Jack and Tino, guard the radio room to ensure that no unwanted calls go out. Lukas, you and Stefan will be with me, while Kiku and Amelia will assist these three idiots."

Arthur couldn't help but admire how well-trained his crew was, because they immediately separated into the groups he had just told them, and scurried off to their posts.

"When are Iona and Berwald expected to return?" Gilbert said, practically spitting Iona's name.

"Any moment now, _mon petit albinos en colère_," Francis said with a grin.

"Guys! I think I might have found us a good ship! And it's brand-spanking new!" Mathias yelled, running up to the group. He had a large smile, though he was breathing heavily from excitement.

"Really? Where is it?" Gilbert said, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's way at the back, where they keep all of the new ships. It looks like it's just been furnished and everything! Doesn't even have a name yet!"

"Lead on, Mathias!" Antonio cheered. It was then that Arthur noticed an Italian girl behind the Spaniard. He realised with a start that he'd seen the girl's picture before.

"Wait a second, Carriedo. Your little broad there, she wouldn't happen to be one of the Vargas girls, would she?" Arthur said. Antonio froze.

"_Si_, I'm Romana Vargas, bastard," the girl snapped.

"I've seen your face on some posters around here. Your grandfather's looking for you, you know, and he's paying anyone who returns his little granddaughters to him a very hefty amount."

Antonio looked stricken, grabbing Romana's hand and tugging.

"Come on! Let's go see this ship," he said nervously.

"Don't mention a word of this to my sister," Romana hissed, glaring at Arthur. She didn't want to risk Feliciana begging her to let them go home in exchange for turning their newfound friends in for piracy, nor did she particularly want to return to being the forgotten child by her grandfather. She allowed herself to be dragged behind Antonio, occasionally smiling at how excited he was about the prospect of a new ship.

The group walked to the very back of the gargantuan aerodrome, the ships they passed continuing to get larger and larger, until they finally came to a magnificent vessel. It was as big as _Der Adler, The Corazón, La Liberté, _and_ The English Rose_ combined, and, just as Mathias had said, completely unnamed. It was the blank slate that all four captains were looking for.

"Mathias, it's perfect!" Gilbert crowed, running a gloved hand along the smooth metal reverently.

"I think we've found ourselves a ship," Francis sighed with a weary smile.

"Indeed we have," Arthur said softly.

"_Perfecto!_" Antonio laughed.

"Oi! Where is everyone?" a female voice yelled from the front of the aerodrome.

"That must be Iona and Berwald now. Our first order of business should be getting Vash onto the ship, then loading everything else," Francis said. He lead the way back to the front.

Iona stood with her hands on her hips, the hem of her long grey skirt muddied, and wisps of hair falling from her braid. Berwald stood a few feet behind her, Vash's unconscious form slung over his shoulder like a rag doll. The Swede was just as haggard-looking.

"What in the world happened to you two?" Mathias asked, sniggering a little.

"Believe it or not, smuggling a patient out of the intensive care unit is not particularly easy, especially at almost midnight," Iona huffed, looking annoyed.

"Well, all that matters is that you've got Vash and you're ready to leave. We've found ourselves a ship. Do you think you can get the message around to everyone else, Iona?" Francis said.

"Aye. Shouldn't be difficult. Where's the ship?" the Scotswoman said.

"At the very back. It's unnamed, but has a bunch of sails, and the entire ship is carved so that it kind of looks like a phoenix or something. You'll know it when you see it," Mathias said. Iona nodded and disappeared into the bowels of the aerodrome before Arthur had a chance to register her presence. He made his way back to the unnamed ship, admiring the craftsmanship that had gone into the vessel. It certainly was beautiful, and it filled him with a sense of hope.

Ten minutes passed, and various people of different nationalities trickled into the dock where the ship was stationed at a leisurely pace. Finally, at ten-till midnight, Iona reappeared.

"That's everyone, I believe," she sighed, leaning against the hull for a moment.

"Yao, Ludwig, has everything been loaded?" Antonio called.

"Yes sir! All personal items are in the main entrance area, and supplies have been loaded into the hold! We are ready for flight!" Yao responded, giving the group of captains a thumbs up.

"_Magnifique!_ All aboard!" Francis yelled. He allowed Iona to board ahead of him, and made sure to trip Arthur as the Englishman ascended the ramp.

The ship had already been untethered from the dock, and somehow, by the strange machinations of a certain Bulgarian man, the ceiling of the aerodrome had been opened. The engines fired up, the lights on the ship came on, and, at the very last moment, a new flag was hoisted about the mast, adorned with a rose, a bleeding heart, an eagle, and a sword all centered around a skull and crossbones.

"Where the bloody hell did we get a flag from?" Arthur snapped, pointing up at the banner.

"Romana and Feliciana designed it after we got your message, and Mircea made it with magic!" Antonio exclaimed.

"It's hideous..."

"Mister Køhler, set sail for Edinburgh, Scotland!" Gilbert called as the ship rose into the air.


	16. Chapter 16: Fate Has Smiled

**Somewhere Over the English Channel—March 8th, 1890—06:30**

**Romana Vargas**

Romana wasn't entirely sure why she was awake so damn early. Perhaps it was because she was in an unfamiliar bed. Or maybe, it was due to the fact that she could hear unfamiliar and strangely accented voices outside her door every so often. Whatever the reason, Romana had not slept well at all, and it made her extremely grumpy.

"Might as well go ahead and get dressed," she grumbled, rolling out of bed carefully, so as to not wake her sister.

_How she can sleep so well absolutely amazes me,_ Romana thought. She rummaged through one of the shopping bags filled with clothes from Berlin, and chose a red skirt and cream-coloured blouse, wrapping a deep red shawl around her shoulders.

She crept silently down the hallway of the new ship, trying to find her way to some sort of sitting area or something. From what she had gathered, this ship was built as a new luxury vessel, meant to transport the rich and spoilt for weeks on end as they partied away in the sky. It was outfitted with the latest technology, but also with the latest in weaponry. It felt more like a flying neighbourhood than a simple ship.

"Romana, what are you doing up so early?" a familiar voice behind her said. She spun around and saw Antonio standing a few feet away, dressed in a nightshirt. His mop of brown curls was a mess, and he smiled sleepily at her, as though he weren't entirely sure if this was a dream or not.

"I couldn't sleep, idiot. This ship is too cold and there are too many people and it's too noisy," Romana complained.

"_Pobrecita_! You should've come and found me last night before you went to sleep! I would've given you extra blankets and told everyone to be quiet!" Antonio laughed, rubbing his eyes.

"Why are you awake?" Romana said.

"I always wake up this early. I was going to shower, then have a look around," Antonio replied with a nod towards a nearby door. Romana assumed it was the bathroom, given the context.

"Oh. Do you know where the kitchen is?" she said, folding her arms over her chest. Even with the woolen shawl, she was cold.

"_Sí! _Well, I think I do. If you can wait a few more minutes, we can go together!" Antonio said, smiling widely.

Romana looked at the Spaniard thoughtfully for a moment. She really wanted food immediately, but the fact that she had no idea where she was going put a damper on her plans. It was too early to be dealing with the happy skippy captain, yet that seemed to be her only choice.

"You have ten minutes," she sighed, barely getting the sentence out before Antonio had dashed back into his bedroom, grabbed some clothing, and dashed down the hall, into the washroom.

Romana paced up and down the hall while she waited, stopping to eavesdrop when she heard voices inside some of the rooms.

"I can't believe we're all together again, Sve! Oh, I've missed you and Mathias so much!" she heard from inside one room, followed by a deep grunt.

"Viktor? Viktor? Pssst, Viktor, I have to go potty. Will you walk with me?" came a small child's voice from another room.

She heard the faintest of songs being sung in one of the rooms at the end of the hall, occasionally broken up by a sniffle. She could only imagine what the hall on the other side of the ship was like.

True to his word, Antonio burst out of the bathroom with thirty seconds to spare, the light from the gaslamps overhead making the water droplets in his hair sparkle.

"Come on, Roma! Let's go find some food before everyone else wakes up!" he cheered, grabbing Romana's hand. The Italian mumbled something about him being a "damn Spanish bastard," but didn't put up much of a fight. They wandered through countless halls and into grand rooms until they finally found a kitchen that looked more like it belonged on some fancy ocean cruise liner than any airship ever. It had already been stocked with food, and even had an ice box, which was also filled.

"All four of us captains stocked this place last night after everyone had gone to sleep to ensure the utmost peace! I even bought some tomatoes and pasta and pizza makings for you, Roma!" Antonio said proudly, puffing out his chest. Romana felt a slight blush creep up her cheeks.

"Don't you go trying to brown nose me, _bastardo_. You're still a dirty pirate, and the only reason I've stuck with you this long is because my _sorella_ doesn't want to leave that kraut-face you call a first mate," Romana huffed.

Antonio laughed, taking Lovina's other hand in his so that he now held her full attention. "Oh, Roma! You're so cute when you're grumpy!"

"Yeah, whatever, _stupido_," she grumbled. "Just make me some breakfast, dammit. I'm hungry."

Antonio laughed again, and started digging around in the ice box. He set out some eggs, some ham, a tomato, a red bell pepper, and some cheese.

"Do you think you can get me a frying pan from that cupboard over there? If you can't find it, go check with Gilbert's temporary first mate, Daniel. Guy has some sort of frying pan fetish or something," Antonio said. Romana nodded and searched through the cupboard, resurfacing with a shiny new frying pan.

Antonio set about cooking, humming as he worked, and occasionally throwing pieces of ham at Romana for the girl to catch in her mouth. Soon, the smell of frying eggs filled the room and wafted upstairs to the living deck.

"Something smells amazing," Arthur's radioman, Emil, said from the doorway, yawning and stretching. His silver-white hair was even more tousled than usual, and his pyjamas were wrinkled, as though he had spent the night tossing and turning.

"¡_Buenas mañanas_!" Antonio called, looking up from his cooking.

"Uhmmm...Good morning?" the boy said, looking at Romana and Antonio blearily.

"What do you want on your omelette?" Antonio asked. Emil looked vaguely uncomfortable.

_Trust me, kid, I know how you feel, _Romana thought.

"Just coffee for me, thanks," Emil said, walking over to the French press and dumping a gratuitous amount of coffee into it.

"Suit yourself, _amigo_!" Antonio said. Emil grunted and continued making his coffee.

A little while later, Emil's older brother and Arthur's magician, Lukas, entered the room looking just as bleary-eyed and mussed as his sibling.

"Don't even wish me a good morning until I have my coffee," he growled, making a beeline for the spot Emil had vacated in front of the press.

If Romana had thought that Emil's mug of coffee was big, she wasn't sure how to categorise Lukas' helping.

The two brothers sat at the large table in silence, sipping at their respective mugs of coffee and looking around the kitchen.

"Where's Captain Kirkland? Isn't he usually the first one up?" Emil finally asked, draining the last of his drink.

"Last I heard, he and Miss Amelia were already up and...talking. He'll probably be down in a little while, Emil," Lukas replied, standing up to pour himself a third cup of coffee.

"Oh, good, my brother's found himself a nice lass. Guess I didn't completely screw the little shit up," Embra smirked as she glided into the kitchen, her pink silk robe and its long sleeves trailing behind her. She, especially, looked like someone who'd recently been in a fight, and Romana wondered how she could've missed the claw marks on the left side of the Scotswoman's face.

"Good morning, Embra! Would you like an omelette?" Antonio called. Embra turned and smiled at him, wincing faintly as the claw marks shrunk.

"That would be lovely, Captain Carriedo," she said politely. She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a kettle, filling it with water.

"Oh, Embra, do you need to use the stove?" Antonio said.

"Nope. I'm fine," Embra said, waving her hand over the kettle, "but I would like everything in my omelette, please."

The kettle began whistling and Embra poured the scalding water into a cup before dropping two tea bags into it. She waved her hand over the kettle again, and it stopped steaming.

Antonio made quick work of Embra's breakfast, handing her the plate as she walked over to the table, staying as far away from Lukas as possible.

"Hey, _deficiente_," Romana said, standing up and pushing in her chair, "I'm going to go see if my sister's awake yet. Don't burn anything."

"Okay! Come back quickly!" Antonio said with a grin.

Romana went up the stairs and through the entrance area to the hall where her room was.

When she arrived at the room she was sharing with her sister, she found it empty and even messier than it had been when she'd woken up.

"Feliciana? _Dove sei?_" she called, walking down the hall.

When a search through both bedroom halls yielded nothing, Romana decided she would check the third floor of the ship where she figured all of the important rooms like the bridge were.

To her surprise, the third floor was just one long sitting room filled with couches and tables and large round windows. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, reminding Lovina of her grandfather's beautiful mansion back in Venice. A pang of homesickness struck her, and the Italian girl had to momentarily sit down on one of the plush couches until she had regathered herself.

"Damn luxury ship has too many floors," she mumbled.

She quickly ascended the stairs to the fourth floor, a large floor ringed by cannons sticking out all around the entire ship. In the center was a large column with a door and some buttons at the bottom. Romana walked over and pressed the top button, and the door emitted a small bell tone before opening.

"It's an elevator," she whispered to herself. She pressed the big round button that read, "5," and almost lost her balance when the elevator started moving. A few seconds later, the door chimed again and opened into a vast room that took up the entire fifth deck. It was filled with chairs and tables with small screens on them, and at the front of the room was a steering wheel. Arthur Kirkland's navigator, Jack, stood at the wheel, looking out the giant windows which took up the entire wall.

From behind her, Romana heard a high-pitched giggle that she would recognise anywhere. She wheeled around and found Feliciana curled up against Ludwig's side as the German man sorted through a stack of papers, looking incredibly awkward and uncomfortable with the amount of physical contact.

"Feli! There you are!" Romana called, startling the pair. Ludwig turned a brilliant red and Feliciana jumped up, fearing one of her sister's scoldings.

"_Ve_, sorry _sorella_, I was on my way down to breakfast when I ran into Ludwig and decided I would help him with all of his official work!" Feliciana chirped. Romana rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, well, the Spanish bastard is making omelettes if you want one," Romana sighed, waving her sister off. Feliciana trotted back over to Ludwig's side, almost tripping over her skirt in the process. Ludwig deftly caught her and placed her on the seat next to him delicately.

"Okay! We'll be down later, unless we reach Scotland before then!" Feliciana said, nuzzling Ludwig's arm with her head.

"We should be there within the next six hours, miss, but remember, it's just a quick stop to refuel and make sure everything's completely set and armed for the journey to St. Petersburg!" Jack called from the helm.

"We hope," Ludwig mumbled darkly. He set down the last stack of papers and leaned back on the bench, stretching his arms above his head. Feliciana took that moment to lean up against his chest so that when he brought his arms down, one well-muscled arm rested around her small shoulders. Romana was almost certain that the young man was going to have a heart attack right then and there.

"Whatever. I'm gonna go read in the kitchen," the older Italian girl huffed.

**Somewhere Over Southern England—March 8th, 1890—09:45**

**Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt**

"Okay, so how are we going to divide up the work?" Gilbert sighed, looking around at the seven other people in the conference room they'd found. It was a weird feeling with all four captains sitting in the same room peacefully along with their first mates, but Gilbert wasn't going to argue with it, not when they had more important things to worry about.

"I believe I should be captain," Francis said with a wink. Vash, who had finally woken up and felt well enough to be wheeled around in a wheelchair, glared at his captain, torn between wanting to shoot him and wanting to simply ignore the Frenchman.

"Why the bloody hell would we ever choose you to be captain of this entire ship?" Arthur snapped.

"Because I'm the most attractive, obviously," Francis replied.

"This is not a beauty contest, Francy-pants. We're not choosing you to be captain," Gilbert said, sounding fairly annoyed.

"Well, we won't be able to come to a consensus on it, because we're all going to vote for ourselves, as will our first mates," Francis quipped.

"Why not all four of you are captain, and you just rotate?" Daniel suggested.

"Or it could be an oligarchy, so all four of you are captains and make decisions together," Kiku added. The four captains thought about it for a moment.

"Maybe it could work," Gilbert said, "but I would be the leader of the leaders because I'm obviously the best!"

"No, you're not, so sit down," Daniel hissed, pulling Gilbert down.

"You're just jealous of my awesomeness," the Prussian sniffed, sticking his tongue out at the Hungarian man.

"For the time being, let's just go with Kiku's idea. Now, we can't have four first mates because that would get wickedly confusing. It's already going to be strange enough with four captains, and I'm not sure if we want to have that many people in the chain of command, so we will need to choose one person," Arthur said, gesturing to the first mates.

"Who would you suggest, Kirkland?" Gilbert said, sparing a glance at Kiku.

"I was actually thinking Ludwig," the Brit said.

"No, I'd rather not have that much responsibility," Ludwig said. He already had enough on his plate between dealing with his air-headed captain and his growing feelings for Feliciana, and he didn't need anymore complications.

"Hmmm...then who should we choose?" Antonio said, looking around at the other three candidates. All of them shook their heads and gave excuses for why they would not be good choices. Nobody really wanted to be first mate for the entire ship. Too many conflicting personalities to contend with, and everyone had other things to worry about. Daniel swore that, if given the chance to be in a real position of power rather than a temporary one, he would most likely have Mircea thrown off the side of the ship. Vash claimed that he was still in no shape physically to be doing anything more than practicing with his sniper guns. Ludwig simply glared at them, and Gilbert understood his brother well enough to not press the subject any further, while Kiku said that he was much too quiet and passive for him to be considered an authority by anyone other than the crew of _The English Rose_.

"Is there anyone onboard this bloody ship who would be willing to take the position?" Arthur growled.

"Well, I have one suggestion, but I'm not sure that two out of four of you are going to like it," Daniel replied, cowering under Arthur's icy gaze.

"Go on..." Gilbert huffed.

"I was thinking that maybe Embra could do it. She's been a first mate longer than any of us have, and she has experience in dealing with all sorts of crew members. I mean, she managed to hold us together for five years without letting most of us know who she really was, and that's gotta count for something, even if two of you kind of hate her right now," Daniel said sheepishly. Arthur nearly choked on his scone and Gilbert's face turned an angry colour.

"Absolutely not!" both men yelled.

"Hold on a moment, _mes amis_. Perhaps Daniel here has a point. We need someone who can command the respect of the crew members and who knows what they're doing, and Embra does have a fairly formidable personality. However, here's a suggestion: how about Embra as first mate, and have a second mate who can deal with those of us who are on bad terms with Madame Mackenzie? That way, you only have to interact with the mate you wish to interact with," Francis said, his smile giving way to a much more serious expression.

"That could work," Arthur said pensively.

"Who should be the other?" Antonio asked.

"How about Berwald?" Gilbert replied.

"He'd certainly intimidate everyone into obeying," Arthur laughed bitterly.

"That sounds fine. Daniel, will you go get Embra and Berwald?" Gilbert sighed, not looking forward to seeing the Scotswoman.

Daniel got up and left the room, returning ten minutes later with the two individuals in question.

"Wh't do ya need, _Kaptener_?" Berwald said. Embra sat in a chair near the window scowling, the morning sunlight highlighting the scratches on her face and arms.

"Mister Oxenstierna, Miss Mackenzie, we have a proposition for you two," Gilbert said cordially. His red eyes locked on Embra, staring her down until she looked up to face the rest of the room.

"And what would that be?" she purred, narrowing her grey eyes at the albino in return.

"We've discussed the hierarchy onboard the ship, and have decided that all four of us will be captains with equal power," Francis said.

"And what does this have to do with us?" Embra said, nodding to Berwald.

"Well, because of some of the...dynamics that exist between certain people here," Francis began with a look at Arthur and Gilbert, "we have come to the agreement that there will be two first mates, and—"

"And you chose me and Berwald," Embra said, finishing Francis' sentence with a smirk.

"Exactly! We will make this announcement to the crew when we land in Edinburgh, but we figured it would be best to tell you two beforehand," Antonio chirped.

Embra sat and thought for a few minutes, delighting in the angry looks she received from both her brother and ex-boyfriend.

"Well, say something, _verdammt_," Gilbert snapped. Embra gave him a cat-like grin while Berwald stared at a fixed point above Gilbert's head.

"S'nds good t' me," the Swede said, nodding.

"Aye. Don't see any problem with it," Embra added. "Is that all, or do you want me to sit here and let the rage in this room build up?"

"I'd suggest you leave, _ma cherie_," Francis said with a kind smile, though his eyes held a warning meant only for the Scotswoman. She took the hint and left, closing the door gently on her way out.

"So it's settled then. Now what?" Antonio said, looking around.

"I need a brandy or something. I do hope this ship is well stocked with alcohol," Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

"But it's only 10:15 in the morning, Arthur-san!" Kiku said, looking at his captain in shock.

"Bollocks. It's never too early for a drink when you have to put up with some of these misfits," Arthur spat.

"For once, I agree with you, _mein_ _freund_," Gilbert said.

"Do I want to know what my darling sister did to you?" Arthur said.

"That's another story for another day," Gilbert growled.

**Edinburgh, Scotland—March 8th, 1890—23:00**

**Stefan Zeltser-Bălan**

Stefan did not like the new ship. He felt completely lost, and it reminded him of the first few days after Mircea had left him with Uncle Sadik. He especially did not like how everyone else had disappeared into lots of different parts of the ship, and no one was around to stay with him or take him to bed, particularly when it was so long past his bedtime.

"Viktor? Captain? Sadik? Where are you guys?" he cried, tears springing to his large red-brown eyes. He didn't hear anyone coming, making him feel even more alone. After a few minutes more of calling out for someone, the little boy sat down and cried.

He spent ten minutes on the floor, wailing and crying in a heap in the middle of the hallway.

"Where is everyone? I don't like it here!" he wailed, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Hey, there, kid, what's wrong?" a voice behind him called. The accent was extremely familiar, and Stefan almost couldn't believe he was hearing it. He sniffled, wiping away his tears with the overly-long sleeve of his coat.

"Kid, you deaf?" the voice said again. Stefan heard two sets of footsteps quickly approaching and looked over his shoulder. "What's wrong? Do you have any family on here?"

"_Totul e înfricoșător și singur aici!_" Stefan cried in fluent Romanian. The footsteps stopped.

"_Ce aţi spus?_" one of the strangers gasped, also in Romanian. At this point, Stefan stood up and turned around, his eyes widening.

"M-Mircea?" Stefan stammered. The man speaking to him took a step towards the little boy, followed by the young woman he'd walked in with.

"Stefan?" the man cried, a fanged smile lighting up his face.

Stefan couldn't help himself. He ran at full speed into the man's arms, knocking his brother backwards into the young woman, before both boys fell to the ground in a heap of laughs, tears, and hugs.

"Oh my God, Stefan! It's you! It's really, truly you!" Mircea gasped, hugging his little brother tightly. It had been too long since he'd seen the child, and suddenly, his world felt a little more complete. Tears of joy formed in his brilliant red eyes, mirroring Stefan's own happy tears at finally seeing his brother again. The lady behind Mircea smiled kindly, though she was careful not to interfere with the reunion.

Mircea let go of Stefan long enough for them both to stand, but quickly picked the boy back up.

"Big brother! I've missed you so much!" the little boy exclaimed. He'd only been two when his brother had left four years ago, but two was certainly old enough to remember how close the two of them were.

"One question, though, Stef...What the heck are you doing on a pirate ship? They haven't done anything to you, right? Were you kidnapped? Sold as a slave? Used as some sort of weird bargaining chip in a game of poker? You're not hurt, are you? Nobody's touched you inappropriately, have they? Cause if they have, well, I might have to go kill someone," Mircea said.

"Uncle Sadik brought me with him when he joined last year. It was a little scary at first, but everybody's been really nice to me, especially Captain Kirkland!" Stefan said. Mircea looked at him with a raised eyebrow for a moment and shrugged.

"Okay...if you say so," he said.

"Mircea, are you going to introduce me to this adorable _wee_ _yin_?" the young woman said after ten minutes. Stefan recognised her as the girl he'd seen with his brother on the night of the attack, and wondered what she was to his brother, as well as how she'd gotten those claw marks on her face.

"Oh! Right! Stefan, I want you to meet Miss Iona Mackenzie. Iona, this is my baby brother, Stefan!" Mircea said, turning Stefan in his arms so that the boy could see Iona better.

"_Salut_, Miss Iona!" Stefan chirped, giving the young woman a big smile identical to Mircea's.

"Hullo there, Stefan. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said warmly.

"Are you my brother's wife?" Stefan asked innocently, noticing how close Mircea stood to her once he had set the boy down.

Iona turned red, and Mircea looked horrified.

"I'm afraid not," Iona replied, laughing a little. Stefan decided that he liked Miss Iona, if only because she seemed to make Mircea smile, and she had a funny accent.

"Then are you his girlfriend? Because I want you to be my big sister!" Stefan said, hugging Iona's legs.

"I'm Mir's best friend, but I'd be happy to be your big sister as well," Iona said, reaching down and picking Stefan up.

"Okay! We can be a family!" Stefan cried, throwing his arms around Iona's neck.

Mircea smiled at the two of them, happy beyond words that the two most important human beings in his entire world had finally come together. However, that didn't mean that he wasn't still haunted by the guilt of leaving his brother behind.

_Bucharest, Romania—Four and a Half Years Previous_

_Alexandru Mircea Bălan_

"_Please, money for a poor young man and his baby brother?" Mircea croaked, his throat parched from standing in the hot sun all day with no water. His two year old half-brother, Stefan, sat behind him in the shade, watching as the older boy tried to get them enough money to survive. Things simply hadn't been the same since Viktor left, and Mircea was seriously beginning to regret not joining his friend onboard Antonio Carriedo's ship. _

_He spied a pair of young men walking towards him, both dressed in expensive-looking clothing. One had white hair and red eyes not very different from Mircea's own, while the other had a long mahogany coloured ponytail and the strangest green-grey eyes the Romanian had ever seen. Both of them couldn't have been much older than twenty, and Mircea, at twenty-two, immediately felt superior to the pair. _

"_Stefan, I need you to stay here for a moment, okay?" he said over his shoulder. Stefan nodded, returning to playing with the doll one of the neighbourhood ladies had given him._

_Mircea waited for the strange pair to pass him, and then silently crept behind them, making sure to not lose sight of the white haired man's money bag. _

_If I can just get a few feet closer, I can probably levitate that bag off his belt without him ever noticing, Mircea thought to himself. _

_Suddenly, the redheaded man spun around, almost seeming to stare directly into Mircea's eyes. The Romanian froze._

"_What is it, James?" the albino man said in a distinctly Germanic accent._

"_Nothing, Gilbert. Thought I heard something, but I guess it was just the wind," the other man, James, answered in a rough, but oddly feminine burr. _

"_Well, we are in a marketplace," Gilbert said with a smirk. The pair started walking again, still tailed by Mircea. _

_When the strawberry blond was close enough, he waved his hand and his eyes lit up, focusing on the bag hanging from Gilbert's belt. It softly untied itself and began to float towards him. _

_Just as Mircea was about to reach out and grab it, James spun around again, this time locking eyes with the thief, and the bag dropped to the ground._

"_Gotcha," he purred, walking over to Mircea. _

"_W-what? I didn't do anything," Mircea said innocently, hiding his hands behind his back. James cocked an eyebrow and looked down at the money bag before looking back up at Mircea. _

"_Hey, Captain," James called, waving Gilbert over, "I think I found you that magician you've been wanting."_

"_Really now?" Gilbert said with a sly tone, strutting over to them. _

"_Aye. Just caught this guy trying to steal your treasure without so much as touching you."_

_Gilbert eyed the Romanian man warily._

"_What's your name?" he barked._

"_Mircea."_

"_Well, Mircea, normally, the price for trying to steal from a pirate captain, especially one as awesome as myself, is death, but because of the...skills you've shown, I'll let your little attempted robbery slide," Gilbert said, bringing his face close to Mircea's._

"_Oh thank you! I can't abandon my half-brother, Stefan. He's only two and I'm the only family he's got and—" _

"_Hold on. There's a catch to me letting you live," Gilbert huffed, folding his arms. Mircea blanched. "In return for me letting you live, you have to join my crew and swear your undying loyalty to the Awesome Me."_

"_What? No! That's almost as bad as killing me. What will become of my brother? We weren't left any inheritance because my dad and Stefan's mother died so suddenly, and if I leave, he'll die," Mircea cried. He looked pleadingly at Gilbert, but saw no mercy in the man's eyes. _

"_Too bad. You tried to steal from the wrong pirate, so now you have to pay the price."_

"_Actually, Captain, I have a solution," James chimed in, giving Mircea a kind and knowing smile. _

_Gilbert thought for a moment. "Go on."_

"_Mircea, do you have any friends we could bring your brother to?"_

"_Well, there's my dad's former university roommate, Sadik, but he lives in Turkey," Mircea replied._

"_Perfect! We'll set sail for Turkey," Gilbert crowed, pumping a fist into the air. _

"_Take us to your brother. We leave immediately," James said._

_Mircea didn't remember most of the two day voyage to Turkey, but saying goodbye to his brother without any explanation nearly killed him. His only comfort after leaving Stefan with Uncle Sadik was listening to James, who he learned was actually a young Scotswoman named Iona, tell stories of her own brothers, from whom she had run away five months previously. The pain of abandoning his brother lessened with Iona's help, and Mircea soon learned to enjoy times when the two of them preformed magic together, but sometimes, as he lay in bed at night, he would yearn for the feeling of his brother curled up next to him under the covers, and a few tears would run down his face. _

**Alexandru Mircea Bălan**

Mircea simply couldn't believe that, after four very long years, he had finally found his brother again. He had his arms around Iona's shoulders, one of Stefan's hands meeting his at the young woman's collarbone. The three of them stood there for what seemed like an eternity, each one unwilling to let go first.

Finally, Stefan gave a large yawn, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Somebody's sleepy," Mircea said, stepping back and looking at his brother and his best friend.

"I'm not," Stefan said, but gave another yawn and rested his head on Iona's shoulder.

"I think you are~" Iona teased, handing the child over to Mircea.

Stefan stared at her for a second. "Okay. I guess I'm a little tired," he said, "but I'm only gonna go to bed if you guys come stay with me in my and Viktor's room!"

Mircea hesitated at the mention of the name Viktor, but recovered quickly, just in time for Iona to smile slyly and say, "I have an even better idea; why don't you come sleep in our room?"

Stefan looked puzzled for a moment. "But I thought you said you guys weren't married...?"

"We're not," Mircea laughed, "Miss Iona just made some very important people angry, so they stuck her in the hold, but I made a deal with them to let her stay with me."

Stefan nodded, his eyes drooping a little.

"'Kay. I still want you to get married, though," he mumbled as the three of them began walking to the other side of the ship.

**23:30**

Mircea couldn't contain his excitement as he crawled into the bed, turning so that he was facing Stefan and Iona who were already fast asleep. Stefan had snuggled up next to Iona and fallen asleep almost immediately while Iona played with the boy's long, scruffy dark hair. The Moldovan child now had two small pigtails sticking straight out either side of his head. Iona had drifted off a little while later, and Mircea envied her ability to put aside emotions of any sort in favour of sleep.

He adjusted the covers and curled up in his brother's other side, throwing an arm around Stefan. Finally, something in him felt complete as he followed the other two into sleep.


	17. Chapter 17: The Past is in the Past

**The Grassmarket, Edinburgh, Scotland—March 11th, 1890—17:00**

**Captain Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland**

Amelia decided that she liked Scotland, even if it was a little too cold. The people were friendly once you got to know them, the food was ten times better than anything she had found in England, and the Scots knew how to appreciate a good beer or a glass of whisky after a long day at work.

"Why can't we just stay here in Scotland, Arthur? I don't want to leave," Amelia whined, tugging on Arthur's hand.

"No," Arthur growled, sulking. He'd been doing that ever since they'd left the ship to go shopping for more food, but Amelia had tried to ignore it.

"That's not a real answer, you dummy!" she cried, punching him on the shoulder. "Can we at least go see that castle up there?"

She used her other hand to point at the intimidating-looking Edinburgh Castle sitting on a hill high above them.

"Ugh, if it will make you happy, then yes, we can go see Edinburgh Castle," Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes. He did not particularly want to go to the castle, but he wanted to make his girlfriend happy.

"Yay! Thank you, Arthur," Amelia chirped, throwing her arms around Arthur's neck. A few of the shopkeepers' wives stared at them in scandalised horror.

They took their purchases back to the ship and handed them over to Tino, Berwald, and Mathias before heading back into the Old Town and up the giant hill.

"Wow! I can see the entire city from here," Amelia exclaimed, standing on a ledge with her hands on her hips. The wind played with her blonde curls and her long black skirt, and Arthur thought she looked like the subject of some Romantic painting rather than a privateer's girlfriend.

"Yes, yes, Amelia. Now get down before you hurt yourself," Arthur said, holding out his hand for Amelia to take. The American woman leapt down, grabbed Arthur's hand, and dragged him to the entrance of the castle.

She tried to imagine herself living in the giant stone structure centuries ago, perhaps a lady of the court, or even a Scottish princess, dancing through the halls, looking out over the city, and maybe even having a secret rendezvous or two with a stable boy in one of the many hidden places throughout the castle. She twirled and jumped, completely oblivious to Arthur's embarrassed looks.

"Amelia, whatever you do, don't touch anything. The Scots don't particularly like it when you touch their things," Arthur warned when he caught Amelia eyeing a nearby sword. The American woman pouted, but her excitement was only momentarily dampened.

The couple walked around the castle for hours, hands intertwined, and gradually, Arthur's mood began to lighten slightly. Amelia, as obnoxious as he found her sometimes, was exactly what he needed when reminders of his sister seemed to haunt him. He'd been fairly good about avoiding her while on the ship, but here in her favourite city ever, Arthur felt like he couldn't escape from Embra's looming shadow. One day, he'd have to confront her.

"Arthur, look at these rings. Aren't they just beautiful?" Amelia asked when they walked into a small shop in one of the gatehouses, picking up a small silver ring made of Celtic knotwork. She tried it on, delighted when she found that it fit her perfectly.

"It's lovely, Amelia," Arthur said with a smile.

"Can I have it, Artie? Please?" she said, looking at him with large blue eyes.

Arthur hesitated for a moment. "Yes, you may have it," he sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing some money to the shopkeeper.

"You're the best, Artie!" Amelia chirped, holding her hand up to admire her new acquisition. Arthur shook his head and chuckled at his girlfriend's enthusiasm.

**20:00**

They continued touring the castle, occasionally stopping to steal a kiss or all out snog until other visitors to the castle happened upon them.

They finally came back around to the entrance area of the castle, where now only a few groups of people huddled together.

"That was so much fun, Arthur! Thank you so much," Amelia said, planting a kiss on Arthur's cheek.

"It was really nothing, honestly," Arthur said, blushing furiously.

"Captain Kirkland?" a small voice behind them said. Arthur turned around and saw Stefan looking at him, the boy's eyes glittering under the gaslights.

"Well hello there, Stefan. What're you doing here?" Amelia cooed, smiling at the boy.

"Big Brother Mircea and Miss Iona took me around the city today! It was so much fun! I saw lots of cool things and got a kilt and ate lots of caramel shortbread!" Stefan exclaimed. Mircea and Iona came up behind him as he spoke.

"Stefan, I told you not to wander off," Mircea scolded lightly, giving his little brother a warning look.

"Sorry, Mircea, but I found Captain Kirkland and his girlfriend and I wanted to say hi," Stefan said, giving his brother an innocent expression.

Mircea and Amelia both were oblivious to the stare off the Kirkland siblings were having, despite the tension between them being tangible.

"So this is your girlfriend, Arthur?" Iona started, looking Amelia up and down.

"Yes, and I'd appreciate it if you left things at that, Embra," Arthur sniffed.

"I'm only asking a question, Brother-mine. You don't have to be rude," Iona said with a pout.

"Yes ma'am! The name's Amelia F. Jones! You must be Artie's older sister!" Amelia cut in with a wide smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Amelia. I do hope we'll have a chance to get to know each other," Iona said kindly.

Arthur glared at Iona coldly, adding, "No, I doubt you'll get that chance. Now leave."

"Come on, Iona. We should head back to the ship," Mircea suggested, tugging on Iona's arm.

"Listen to your ratty little boyfriend, Iona. I want to enjoy my time in Edinburgh without having to deal with my fly-by-night sister," Arthur said coldly.

"Hey! Who're you calling 'ratty'?" Mircea cried.

"Ouch, Arthur. That hurt," Iona said with a sad look, immediately brightening up as a sudden thought hit her. "Not to be awkward, but have you bedded her yet?"

"Why would you ask such a thing around a lady and a small child? Have you no decency?" Arthur gasped.

"I'm just being a concerned big sister, Artie, and I just want to know if you've popped your cherry."

Arthur turned brilliantly red.

"Yes, but at least I didn't lose my virginity to some red-eyed Prussian demon, after abandoning my orphaned siblings on Christmas morning," he spat defensively.

"Artie, no need to get so scary all of a sudden!" Amelia cried.

"Oh, boo hoo, I decided to live my own life. At least I made my own choices instead of following what I thought my family would approve of," Iona snapped.

Arthur could feel his blood pressure rising with every word Iona said.

"You left us when we needed you," he growled.

"You were about to leave us when we needed you, you twat. I just ripped the bandage off," Iona countered.

"That makes no sense! It doesn't matter though, you still left us!"

"Because I had to."

"No, you didn't, and you're still making absolutely no sense whatsoever. Just shut up, Iona. I don't want to hear your stupid excuses," Arthur hissed.

"But—"

Arthur's patience had worn thin.

"No, Iona."

"Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland, you listen to me!"

"Not if you're going to try to tell me you were justified in leaving us!"

"Too bad, because that's exactly what I'd like to do."

Arthur couldn't control himself anymore.

_"Don't do it, Artie-lad,"_ Arthur heard Alistair's voice warn, but he quickly brushed it off.

His bright green eyes lit up and he shot a ball of light at Iona, who just barely dodged it.

"What the hell?" she shrieked.

Arthur sent two more spells towards Iona, hitting her in the side with one.

"That hit was pathetic. It barely hurt," she sneered. Out of the corner of her eye, Iona saw Mircea start to form a spell in his hands, but she quickly disarmed him nonverbally.

The older Kirkland reared back and punched her brother as hard as she possibly could, sending the young man flying backwards. Iona jumped on top of him, pinning him down with her weight.

"Miss Iona!" Stefan wailed. He hid behind Amelia, who stood a few feet away in shocked paralysis.

"Don't. You. Dare. Attack. Me!" Iona cried, punching Arthur in the gut with every word. Arthur's eyes lit up again, and Iona was blasted off of his chest, nearly knocking over Amelia and Stefan in the process. The two bystanders cried out and scrambled further away.

"You little witch," Arthur spat, a sword appearing in his hand. Iona had just enough time to stand up and brush herself off before Arthur ran at her with it.

"Iona! No!" Mircea cried. He launched a vicious barrage of metal spines at Arthur, puncturing Arthur's leg and swiping one of his ears.

"What the hell?" Iona wailed, her eyes glowing silver in the darkness. She created a magical shield and blocked Arthur's attack.

"I'm trying to help you!" Mircea yelled.

"Not you, you idiot! Arthur, you're seriously coming at me with a sword? That's a bit of overkill, isn't it, little brother?" Iona shrieked.

"You deserve it. Heaven knows anyone who willingly leaves their siblings is the lowest sort of life form," Arthur sneered, stabbing at his sister.

"I can think of worse things I could've done, Arthur. That's a little overdramatic," Iona huffed.

A ball of fire formed and hovered over Iona's hand, and she shot it at her brother. Stefan screamed.

"If you would just listen to me, dammit, I could explain everything, and then—"

"Why the bloody hell would I ever listen to you?"

Arthur lunged again, this time getting Iona in the side. The young woman cried out and crumpled into a heap on the ground when Arthur pulled the sword from the deep wound.

"Iona! What the hell did you do, Kirkland?" Mircea screamed, attempting to run towards his best friend. When he found that he was blocked by Arthur's shield spell, he quickly directed an old Romanian spell at the younger Kirkland sibling, watching in sick amusement as Arthur screamed in pain when he felt his blood literally boiling.

"Brother, stop that! It's not right!" Stefan wailed, running over to his brother and tugging on the Romanian man's pants. "Don't kill Captain Arthur!"

"Mircea, that's enough. This is my fight, and the ancient spells won't hurt him quite as much because his magic's just as powerful" Iona hissed, glaring up at her brother.

"Face it, Iona," Arthur growled, recovering from Mircea's spell, "this is a losing battle."

Iona looked up at him with baleful eyes.

"Never. I will not bow to my baby brother in a fight."

Two large metal wheels appeared, razor-sharp knives sticking out, and Iona took the opportunity to throw one at Arthur. Arthur dodged and threw a punch at Iona, landing it on her shoulder. His sword disappeared and he resorted to close combat.

"Good to see that you've learned martial arts, Artie-lad," Iona said, wincing at the immense pain in her side. Like hell was she going to let any injury distract her from this. It wasn't like she wanted to fight, but she knew she had to if she wanted to survive long enough to explain herself.

"I was just wondering where you learned to use Chinese wind and fire wheels," Arthur said coldly.

"I've been traveling all over the world for five years. We spent three months in China before the Eastern Republic took them over," Iona replied, stepping away from Arthur with one hand covering the gash in her side. Blood seeped through her fingers, and when the flying wind and fire wheel came hurling back to her, it nearly slipped out of her red-coated hand as she reached up to grab it.

"Miss Iona! You're bleeding really, really badly," Stefan cried, trying to run towards the Scotswoman.

"Mircea, get him and Miss Jones out of here!" Iona yelled, just as Arthur came at her again with a spell. She wasn't quick enough, and let out a yelp of pain as he struck her in the chest. Iona jumped back a few feet, but Arthur quickly closed the distance, only for Iona to leap up and flip over him, both wheels in hand. As she was right over his head, she detached one of the knives and slashed at his shoulder.

"Look! Now we both have hurt shoulders," she taunted, landing on both feet. She winced again, but stayed upright.

This only seemed to make Arthur angrier, and he cast a vicious ice spell, stabbing Iona's arms with icicles. Iona howled, and paid him back in kind with a wicked-looking shadow-bird creature that sliced up Arthur's back.

"Come on, guys, let's just go! Stop this silly fighting!" Amelia cried out.

"We're not leaving without you two," Mircea yelled back, pushing Stefan behind him.

"Yeah, Arthur! Calm down!" Amelia wailed.

The Kirkland siblings hit each other with nasty spell after nasty spell, knife slice after knife slice, and punch after punch.

It was soon obvious that both were beginning to get exhausted. Iona had somehow managed to make a deep gash in Arthur's chest, and Iona herself was still bleeding badly from the wound in her side. Finally, they both stood facing one another, breathing raggedly and looking much worse for the wear.

Iona was the first to fall, her face pale and ashen. Mircea dashed to her side, removing his black jacket and covering her up in it. Despite her thick wool tartan shawl, she was shivering madly, and Mircea knew that if he didn't get her back soon, she wouldn't make it.

Arthur quickly fell, much like his sister, but Amelia caught him before he could hit the ground.

"We have to get them back, now!" Mircea yelled worriedly, sitting on the ground and gathering Iona into his arms. His eyes glowed red.

_Hey, Norwegian guy,_ he thought, hoping that Lukas would pick up on the message. This was one of those moments when he was glad he had magic so he could do stuff like this.

_What do you want, vampire? And my name is Lukas_, came the surly response.

_We have a bit of a situation, I don't have time to explain, but I need help now. Can you send a team to the castle? It's majorly important,_ Mircea thought.

_Yeah, hold on a few minutes while I—_

_No, now._

Mircea felt Lukas sigh and then mentally walk away from the conversation.

"Hold on, Iona," the Romanian muttered, brushing some hair from Iona's face.

"I'll try," she whispered, smiling at him softly. Stefan ran over to them and hugged Iona.

"You'll be okay, Miss Iona," the child said, his bottom lip trembling. He grabbed one of her hands and held it close to his chest. Iona passed out soon after that, cradled in Mircea's arms as he softly sang in Romanian.

"You alright there, Artie?" Amelia said. Arthur grimaced, but nodded as best he could.

"I'll pull through," he groaned before he too blacked out.

A few tense minutes later, a carriage appeared, and Lukas and Mathias jumped out.

"Is everything alri—_Hellig helvede almægtige_!" Mathias yelled, skidding to a stop next to Mircea.

"Take them and get them back to the ship immediately," Mircea commanded, allowing the Dane to take Iona and carry her to the carriage. He then returned to help Lukas drag Arthur over.

"What happened?" Mathias asked, looking from Mircea's worried expression to Stefan's large watery eyes to Amelia's sad face.

"Embra tried to be nice to Arthur, but he wasn't having it, and she pushed the point, so he snapped, and they had a fight," Amelia said as Lukas helped her into the carriage. The others jumped in and they set off for the Edinburgh Aerodrome.

"Well, at least they got it out here in Edinburgh rather than on the ship. We don't need any attention brought while we're flying a stolen ship," Lukas sighed.

"Speaking of that, why are we in Edinburgh anyways? Why not refuel in a place closer to the destination?" Mathias said with nods of agreement from Amelia and Mircea.

"The way Captain Kirkland explained it to me yesterday, it's because the British don't really care about the fact that this is an unnamed stolen ship because they like doing anything to piss off the Germans, while anywhere closer to Russia is most likely enemy territory. It's not preferable, but we had to go somewhere we could trust," Lukas said with a shrug.

They spent the rest of the trip back to the ship in near-silence, the only sounds being the horses' hooves against the cobblestones and Stefan's childish singing, which Amelia suspected was just to distract himself from the worried tension inside the carriage.

Everything after they returned to the ship was a blur, and Amelia wasn't honestly sure how or when she was ushered to the infirmary.

"Stefan, why don't you go find Uncle Sadik and see if he'll play with you for a little while?" Mircea suggested softly. The boy nodded and ran off, leaving the American woman and the Romanian to watch over the sleeping Kirkland siblings.

"Oh _mon Dieu_! What happened?" Francis cried as he, Gilbert, and Antonio rushed in.

"Sibling rivalry," Amelia said.

"More like sibling death match, from the looks of it," Gilbert snorted, earning a glare from Mircea.

"What did Mister Väinämöinen say? Will they live?" Antonio said, stumbling over the Finnish man's surname.

"Ah, yes, they'll live. Lukas and Mircea were able to do some minor healing on them, and, if Miss Mackenzie is anything like Captain Kirkland, they'll both be up and walking within the next few days, regardless of whether or not they're supposed to be," Tino said as he entered the room, followed closely by Berwald.

"But it puts us back a little, because we can't leave until Kirkland is at least up and moving. Lovely. Guess the Russians will just take over Prussia in the meantime," Gilbert huffed.

"Just because you're in a bad mood, Gilbert, doesn't mean that you need to take it out on the injured. I, for one, am glad that they went ahead and tried to kill each other because now the only way from here is up," Francis said with a pointed look at the Prussian.

"Whatever. How long till we can actually leave this city? It's too damn cold," Gilbert said.

"Well, I'd say they'll be strong enough for us to set out for Russia by the day after tomorrow, but that's only if we give them both some peace. Perhaps we should take this discussion up to the third floor, no? I have some salmiakki we could snack on," Tino said with a smile.

**Captain Arthur George Mackenzie-Kirkland**

**December 25th, 1885**

_"Embra? Are you in there? Come on, everybody's awake! It's time to open presents!" Arthur said. He pressed his ear to the door, but heard no movement inside._

_"Iona?" he called again, hoping that maybe the sound of her first name would rouse his sister, but again he heard nothing._

_Finally, he tried the door handle and found it unlocked, a rare occurrence for an eighteen-year-old Scotswoman with all-male siblings. Arthur warily opened the door and peered inside Embra's spacious corner room. The lights were on, the drawers open and empty, and the closet much the same. Even the bedclothes were missing. The only personal touch that remained was the picture on the bedside table, taken only a year ago when Embra had graduated from St. Andrew's Academy and Alistair had graduated from the Royal Air Force Academy, back when they were all still a family, six siblings and two smiling parents. Sitting next to the picture was a folded piece of paper._

_Arthur walked over to the table and picked up the paper. He immediately recognised his sister's flowery cursive script._

_"En Ma Fin Est Mon Commencement._

_~Iona Margaret Kirkland-Mackenzie~_

_25th December, 1885"_

_Arthur's hands shook, and he read the small note over and over again, hoping that his sister would come down the hall with a grin on her face to tell him that it was all just a joke, but after five minutes, no such thing happened._

_"Okay, Squirt, we're all awake and down here waiting for you and Em, so what's the holdup?" Dylan called. Arthur heard footsteps running up the stairs._

_"Where are you, Art? We're waiting," Dylan said from down the hall._

_"I'm coming," Arthur finally responded, his voice as shaky as his hands. He walked out of the room and met Dylan at the stairs._

_"What's wrong, Brother-mine? And where's Em?"_

_"I-I don't know," Arthur said quietly, showing Dylan the note. Dylan's mint-green eyes filled with understanding, and he put an arm around his baby brother._

_"Will yer guys 'urry up? Oi want ter see waaat al' Oi got dis year!" Sean yelled._

_"We're coming, Sean. Hold your horses," Dylan said. He lead Arthur downstairs, and the pair was greeted by a tackle hug from the twins._

_"'appy Christmas, Artie! 'appy Christmas, Embr—hey, where's Embra?" Colin said, his wide smiling turning to a look of confusion. Dylan nudged Arthur._

_The youngest Kirkland handed Colin the note._

_"Just read it," he grunted._

_"En Ma Fin Est Mon Commencement, Iona Margaret Kirkland-Mackenzie, 25th December, 1885" Colin read aloud. He looked up at Arthur and Dylan before sharing a shocked look with his twin._

_"Does this mean—" Sean whispered._

_"Her room's completely empty. This was the only thing I found," Arthur said sadly, tears stinging his eyes._

_"She left us?" Colin said. Arthur nodded._

_"That's what it generally means when one of us tells the others, 'En Ma Fin,'" Arthur mumbled._

_"But why?" Dylan asked, staring at the stairs mournfully._

_"I really don't know," Arthur replied. The four brothers huddled together in a hug, tears flowing freely down their faces._

**August 19th, 1886**

_"Wing Commander Kirkland?"_

_Arthur snapped out of his reverie, noticing that he'd been doodling in the margins of his notebook again. One of his classmates stood by his desk._

_"Yes?" he said, raising an eyebrow._

_"How was your summer holiday? Did you get to visit your family?" the youth asked kindly._

_"I stayed here the entire time. I try not to visit my family as much as possible," Arthur snapped. It had been a year and two-thirds since his sister's disappearing act, and Arthur had found that going home only made him angry._

_"That's a shame. Anyways, do you think you're going to get a promotion soon? I've heard that they're needing ranked officers to go and combat the sky pirates."_

_"I'd be shocked if I weren't promoted, yes."_

_"Speaking of pirates, have you heard about that Prussian captain? I think his name is Beilschmidt or something like that. They say that he looks like a demon, but that his first mate actually is a demon. I'd love to take them on!"_

_"I'm sure you would, but I'd rather not deal in the affairs of demons."_

_In truth, Arthur did want to confront Beilschmidt and his crew, but that was more because he wanted to be the famous hero to eradicate the pirate scourge. Gaining such recognition would give Arthur a lot of power, and this thought was the only thing driving Arthur through the Academy at this point. He wanted the power to be able to track down his sister, wherever she might be, and bring her home to face the guilt of her actions._

**November 30th, 1887**

_"Choose whichever ship you'd like, Air Vice-Marshall Kirkland. All of these are state-of-the-art, the absolute best the British Empire can offer!" the aerodrome manager said, gesturing to row after row of beautiful newly-built ships. Arthur walked down the rows with his hands clasped behind his back, looking at each ship with a hawk's eye. Finally, he came to one with two large large horizontal propellers sticking up from the main deck of the ship, with four smaller horizontal propellers situated at the four corners of the deck. Other than the six sets of blades, the ship reminded Arthur of an old pirate ship from the days when pirates ruled the seas, not the skies._

_"Oh, my, this one's a beaut. She was just delivered this morning, right before you came in, and, quite honestly, she's my favourite here. Her design is as English as a ship can get, but she has the abilities of any German ship out there. She doesn't require as much fuel as the standard RAF ship, she can hold up to three times her weight in cargo while still staying airborne, and she has enough living space to house a crew of fifteen, though she only needs a minimum of four to run," the old man said when he saw the ship Arthur was looking at._

_"I'll take her," Arthur said without hesitation._

_"Perfect! Any idea of what you'll name her?"_

_"Not in the slightest," Arthur sighed. Inside, he was ecstatic. Finally, he was one step closer to bringing his sister home._

_Arthur lay in bed later that night, his thoughts racing about. Why was he so intent on finding Embra? It made no sense, really. If she wanted to be rid of him and his brothers, well, good riddance. They didn't need her...did they? Arthur had to admit, something in his heart had felt like it was missing since Embra had left. He'd tried his best to fill in that hole with bitterness and anger, and, to a certain extent, it had worked, but he still felt faintly hollow. Perhaps he thought that if he could just bring Embra home, she'd settle down and find herself a nice young merchant's son to marry, and Arthur would never have to worry about her again. At the same time, the Englishman felt as though his sister didn't deserve that sort of happiness, not after all of the grief she'd caused._

**The Unnamed Ship—March 12th, 1890—02:00**

**First Mate Iona Margaret Kirkland-Mackenzie**

Iona's dreams were haunted by scenes from her past, tinged with guilt and regret and soul-crushing sadness. She wished more than anything that she could just go back in time and stop herself from leaving her family. Finally, she willed herself awake, focusing on the screaming pain in her abdomen and her arms.

Initially, she was a little confused as to where she was, until she heard her brother's familiar voice mumble in his sleep.

_Look at what you've gotten yourself into now, Iona. You're all cut and bruised within an inch of your life,_ she could practically hear Alistair say. The thought brought her back to her childhood, a year after Arthur was born, when she and Alistair had spent long hours in the meadow and the woods nearby their family's summer house in the Highlands, playing and laughing and getting into all sorts of trouble.

_"You'll never catch me!" Alistair called, running away from his twin sister._

_"I will if you give me a chance!" Iona retorted, dashing after him. Her skirt got tangled in a nearby bush, and the four year old went crashing to the ground, banging her elbow on a rock and face-planting in a nearby mud puddle._

_"Iona, are you okay?" Alistair shrieked, hurrying to his sister's side._

_"N-no! I hurt my elbow and my dress is all ruined!" the little girl wailed, tears streaming down her muddy face. Along with the injury on her elbow, she had various cuts and bruises, and her hair was covered in leaves._

_"Come on, let's take you to Mum. She'll get you all cleaned up," Alistair soothed, taking his sister's hand and leading her back towards the house._

The scene changed, and suddenly, Iona found herself coming in the back door of their house in London, now a young lady of fifteen, though she looked more like a street urchin at that moment. Her hair, which had been artfully done that morning by her mother, was now a frizzy mess, parts of it falling out of the sophisticated style her mother had spent so much time on, and her long pink dress was splattered with blood and dirt. She remembered that day all too well, and she especially remembered Alistair's reaction.

_"What the bloody hell happened to you, Sister-mine?" Alistair growled, making Iona jump. She stared at her twin with wide eyes, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly._

_"Don't tell me it's nothing, Iona. I know when you're lying. Who did you fight this time?"_

_"That stupid little git from down the road was shouting abuse at me again. I did what I had to," Iona sniffed, scowling at her brother._

_"So you attacked him?" Alistair said, cocking an eyebrow._

_"Well, first, I just sent a bad luck spell his way, but he caught on and started yelling more abuse at me, so then I attacked him."_

_"So you mean you attacked him."_

_"Yeah, I suppose so."_

_"Look at you, Iona. You're a bloody mess, and I mean that both figuratively and literally. What in the world are we going to do with you? What do you think Mum and Dad are going to think when they see you?" Alistair sighed, gesturing to Iona's torn dress._

_"They won't find out. I'm going to go get myself cleaned up," the young woman quipped, starting towards the stairs._

_"Iona, promise me you won't get into any more rows like this. You're 15-years old. Soon enough, people are going to be expecting you to actually behave like a lady of society, not some barbarian," Alistair said, blocking her way._

_"Fine, Ali. I promise," Iona huffed, but Alistair didn't budge._

_"No, look me in the eyes and promise me."_

_Iona fixed her green-grey eyes on her brother's forest-green eyes. "Aye, I promise."_

The scene changed once more, and Iona felt her heart drop at the memory. It was the day her brother left for Poland—the last time she ever saw him.

_"You swear you'll be safe?" she asked quietly, straining to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Alistair looked at her with a kind smile._

_"I swear to the moon and back, Iona. Don't worry. You'll see me at Christmas, and then they're moving me back to the London base. I'm just going to go help fend off the Russians at Warsaw for a few months. I'm not worried, and you shouldn't be either," Alistair replied._

_"You'll write to me every day?"_

_"Maybe not every day, but every week, yes."_

_"I don't want you to go, Ali. We just lost Mum and Dad. What will I do if something happens to you?" Iona said._

_"I don't want to go either, but I have to. Remember that cloak I gave you?" Alistair said._

_"Aye. It's up in my room."_

_"Well, whenever you feel like you miss me too much, just wrap yourself up in it and pretend I'm sitting there with you, listening to you tell stories again, or singing with you. Before you know it, I'll be home."_

_Ion nodded sadly and wrapped her arms around Alistair's midsection tightly. The older twin responded by enveloping her in a warm embrace._

_"I have to go now, but I'll be home for Christmas. I love you, Sister-mine, and no matter how far away I am, I'm here for you. Remember that," Alistair said, kissing the top of his sister's head._

_"I love you too, Alistair," Iona said. Alistair released her and, with one final encouraging smile, ascended the gangplank onto the ship that would take him to Poland._

Iona felt a tear run down her cheek, but even the memory of Alistair's departure was nothing compared to the next memory her mind jumped to.

_"Iona?" Dylan yelled from the front door._

_"What is it, Dylan?" Iona called, coming to the top of the stairs._

_"There's a man from the Ministry of Defense here. Says it's urgent," Dylan said, stepping aside for Iona to see the man at the door. The young woman hurried down the stairs, a flurry of red skirts and even redder hair._

_"Good evening, sir. How may I help you?" she said, ignoring the growing pit of dread in her gut._

_"Are you Miss Iona Margaret Kirkland-Mackenzie?" the man asked._

_"Yes, what do you need?" Iona replied cautiously._

_The man said nothing, but handed Iona a letter with the official Ministry of Defense seal._

_"I'm very sorry," he finally said before turning to leave. Iona shut the door and looked at Dylan, gathering her composure._

_"Should I go get the others?" he said quietly, watching his sister's face go pale, her polite smile falling._

_"Yes, please. I think we all need to open this together," she said. Dylan ran to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with Sean, Colin, and Arthur in tow._

_"What is it, Em?" Arthur said, looking at his sister with a worried expression._

_"There's been a letter from the MoD. I thought it would be best to open it together," Iona replied shakily. She gently tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter._

_"16th December, 1885_

_Dear Miss Iona Margaret Kirkland-Mackenzie,_

_It is my deepest regret to inform you of the passing of your brother, Air Commodore Alistair James Kirkland-Mackenzie, on the 15th of December, 1885. I am writing you this letter as you were named Mister Mackenzie's next of kin following the death of your parents. Rest assured that your brother died a hero on the battlefield defending not only the British Empire, but Europe as a whole. His sacrifice will not be forgotten, and he will be given all military honours. Alistair's body will be transported back to London in two days' time, at which point he will be given a funeral in the cemetary of your choice. Should there be anything that you or your family needs in this time of grieving, do not hesitate to contact the Ministry of Defense. Again, I am so sorry for your loss._

_Regretfully,_

_Marshal of the Royal Air Force, Sir Winston Holmes"_

_All five of the siblings stared at the letter, each of them still trying to process what it had said._

_Sean was the first to register the bad news, grabbing his twin brother's hand and squeezing it. Colin followed, leaning his head on Sean's shoulder, silent tears running down his face. Dylan placed a supportive hand on Arthur's shoulder, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his other arm, while Arthur just stared stoically at the ground._

_Iona crumpled into a heap on the floor with a wail._

_"No! This can't be true, Alistair can't be gone!" she cried, balling up the letter and throwing it at the door before burying her face in her hands "This has to be some sort of joke!"_

_"Embra, it's not. He's really gone," Arthur said mechanically._

_"Oh God, no, no, no..." she sobbed._

_"Embra, we should go to the sitting room. I'll fix you some tea," Dylan said._

_Arthur helped Iona up and led her to the sitting room, helping her sit down in her chair. She looked shocked and despondent, and tears continued to run down her face. Sean sat down on the armrest and started playing with Iona's hair absentmindedly, braiding and unbraiding it just to give himself something to do. Colin curled up by the fire, hugging his knees to his chest as he stared at the dancing flames. Dylan came in a few minutes later with a cup and a small biscuit, and placed it on the table next to Iona._

_"Alistair's...gone..." Arthur mumbled, sitting himself at Iona's feet and leaning his head on her knees._

_"What are we going to do?" Sean asked quietly, trying to untangle a strand of mahogany-red hair._

_"We'll keep going, just the same as always," Dylan sighed._

_"We'll need to make arrangements quickly," Iona said, taking a sip of her tea._

_"We'll do that in the morning. Today, we take our time to grieve. Tomorrow, we keep calm and carry on," Dylan said._

_Thank God for Dylan, else we'd all go to hell in a handbasket right now, Iona thought sadly to herself._

_That night, all five teens slept in the same bed, drying one another's tears and holding each other closely. When morning came, they got up early and set about making funeral arrangements, keeping themselves busy to keep the tears at bay._

The tears ran fast and hot down Iona's face at that point, and the young woman let out a choked sob, hugging the pillow tightly.

"Sometimes, I still hear Alistair scold me for doing stupid things, just like he used to," Arthur's voice said through the darkness.

"What?" Iona croaked.

"Right before I attacked you, I heard him tell me not to do it. I probably should've listened," the younger Kirkland laughed bitterly, adding, "I know he's not actually there, but I guess my conscience took on his voice at some point."

"I was being awful, Arthur. I deserved it," Iona said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"You didn't deserve to be nearly beaten to death, Iona."

"You said it yourself: I abandoned you and the others. Yes, I did deserve it, and much more, if I'm honest."

"I was angry. I've been angry for the past five years, but you can see where that anger's gotten me. It's done nothing but turned me into a bitter shell of a man and—"

"And I've spent the past five years running from my guilt because I couldn't face you four. You may be angry and bitter, but I'm a coward with no excuse, and I've spent every day since I left regretting my decision."

"I guess we're both fools. What would Alistair say if he could see the two of us now?"

"I'll tell you what he'd say. He'd say, 'I turn my back on you two for one second, and you go and just make bloody awful messes of your lives. I can't believe I'm related to you!' and he'd grin and give us some sort of goofy punishment, like having to give Sean a foot massage, or helping Dylan organise his books alphabetically and by colour," Iona laughed sadly. Arthur chuckled.

"I've missed you, Iona, I really have. Those first few months after you left were some of the hardest I've ever gone through, because not only had I lost Alistair, I'd also lost you," Arthur said.

"And Mum and Dad, but it's not like they were really around very much. Is it bad that when we went to their funerals, I felt like I was going to the funeral of some couple we barely knew?" Iona said.

"No, because I felt the same way. It's no wonder we're both so fucked up, is it?" Arthur said.

"Good. I'm not crazy."

"I just have one question, Iona. Why'd you leave us when we needed you so badly?"

Iona sighed and stared at him through the dark for a few moments, letting the tears well up in her eyes. "Losing Alistair...it, it—" She had trouble finishing her sentence verbally, but the sob that shook her body finished it for her. "The day after we got the letter from the MoD, Gilbert offered me the chance to join his crew as a sky pirate, and I knew that the only way to protect my Air Force-oriented family from sky pirates shooting at them was to become, well, a sky pirate. I never intended to leave until after you'd left to go back to school, but when you got your RAF letter—" She continued rambling on incoherently for a few more seconds before going silent.

"What? What happened after I got my RAF letter?" Arthur prodded, but the sharp intake of breath and the small whimper that followed made him pause. "What happened to cause you to leave?" he asked again more softly.

"And then the RAF were trying to take you away, and God, I just, all I could think was, was..." She trailed off brokenly before plunging forward again. "I was just so, so angry—First Ali, then you. God, were those bastards trying to destroy my whole family? I couldn't just stand there and take it, not again, not a second time. I had to do something, something extreme to show the world that it wasn't going to break me, something to show that I was strong and independent, something like—"

"Like join a pirate crew," Arthur supplied dryly. "Which has helped us all so much, clearly."

"Shut up," Iona said, but it lacked heat. "I know it was stupid. I wasn't...I wasn't thinking straight at the time. The only thing I knew was that the RAF had hurt me once and were trying to hurt me again, and, well, I thought that maybe—maybe it wouldn't be so painful if I could hurt them back."

"Iona—" Arthur was having a hard time getting the gist of what his sister was saying, and really, he thought that she wasn't making much sense at all, but he knew that now was not the time to be telling her such.

"Look, I don't blame you if you never speak me again. I've hurt you more than anyone could imagine, and Arthur, I'm so sorry about that," Iona said shakily, fighting back another round of tears.

"I accept your apology, Iona. You're my sister, and I love you, but this will take a while, so long as you're willing to work at it," Arthur said.

"I would love that, Artie-lad," Iona replied. Arthur laboriously sat up and swung his legs around to the side of the bed. He got up and walked over to Iona's bed and sat down on the edge for a moment before laying down next to her.

"I'm glad to have you back," he whispered. Iona smiled in response and closed her eyes, drifting back to sleep once more.

When Tino came back into the room, he found the Kirkland-Mackenzie siblings curled up on Iona's bed together.

"Maybe we should leave them for a little bit longer," Tino said with a knowing smile, blocking the others from entering the room.


	18. Chapter 18: Flight of The Phoenix

**The Unnamed Ship, Edinburgh Aerodrome, Edinburgh, Scotland—March 14th, 1890—20:15**

**Lukas Erickson**

The days following the 'Great Kirkland Fight,' as many of the crew members had been calling it, passed in a blur without any further incident. Everybody anxiously awaited Tino's clearance of the Kirkland siblings so that they could begin their trip to St. Petersburg.

"Do the magic! Do the magic!" Stefan giggled, pulling on Lukas' pant leg. The Norwegian man rolled his eyes, but complied, creating a beautiful ice fairy in his hand and making the little figurine twirl, much to Stefan's delight.

"Yay! Can you make a story out of the ice? One with a princess and a magician and a dragon?" the little boy squealed, his voice echoing in the hallway outside of the infirmary.

At that moment, Lukas greatly disliked the rest of the crew for having other responsibilities because it left him as the only one available to entertain the small child, a job he didn't find himself particularly suited for. Raising Emil had been taxing enough, and Lukas felt that he did not need to have a hand in raising another child.

"I'm afraid not, Stefan. I'm not even supposed to be doing magic without the captain's permission anyways, and I'd rather not end up in the infirmary just like Captain Arthur and his witch sister," Lukas huffed, rubbing one of the many scars from his own fight with Iona.

Just then, the infirmary door opened, and Arthur limped out, supported by Amelia and Sadik due to the injury on his back.

"Sir," Lukas said, standing up and nodding to the captain.

"Lukas, how long have you been out here?" Arthur asked.

"Since the Romanian kid went in and left me to watch his brother," Lukas sniffed, gesturing to Stefan who sat in a porthole behind him, swinging his legs and humming. "Though it's not like it's doing him any use to stay by her side. She hasn't spoken to him since the fight."

It took the child a second to notice the captain, but when he did, he leapt down from the window and ran over to Arthur, hugging the man's legs.

"Captain Arthur! You're okay!" he chirped. Arthur reached down and ruffled Stefan's hair.

"Yes, Stefan, I'm okay."

"Is Big Sister Iona okay too? Is she leaving the infirmary? Because you know, she promised me that when she got out, she would play with me and bake with me and sing songs and tell stories!"

"She'll be out in a few. For now, I need you to go round everyone up and tell them to go to the third floor. Can you do that for me, Stefan?" Arthur said with a smile.

"Yes sir!" Stefan exclaimed, saluting Arthur, his sleeve covering his face.

The boy ran off, and Arthur turned back to Lukas.

"What's the meeting about?" the Norwegian said.

"We're naming the ship. It's the last thing that needs to be done before we set off, and now that we have four magic wielders onboard, getting a name onto the ship itself shouldn't be particularly difficult. Go on ahead, Lukas. I'm going to wait for Iona," Arthur said. Lukas nodded and set off down the hallway.

Two minutes later, Iona walked out looking much healthier and happier than when she'd entered the infirmary.

"Everything all set?" she asked.

"I do believe so. Now, come on. We have a ship to go name," Arthur replied. He lead the way up, never letting go of Amelia's hand the entire time.

"I think they're rather cute, don't you, 'Ona?" Mircea whispered. Iona gave him a sidelong glance. Mircea cowered under the withering look and fell back a few feet.

They came to the third floor where the two Kirkland siblings were greeted with an applause.

"Glad to see you two didn't actually kill each other!" Mathias called, earning a punch from Lukas.

"Stop being obnoxious, fool," the smaller man scolded.

Arthur joined the other three captains at the front of the room while Iona took a seat between Mircea and Berwald at the back of the room.

"Are we all ready to get this started?" Antonio said.

His question was met with cheers and a chorus of, "Yes!"

"The four of us have been talking while I've been in the infirmary, and we've realised that, as one final symbol of unifying our crews, we needed to choose a name for our new home," Arthur said triumphantly, surveying the crowd with sparkling green eyes. "Some of you may recall that I had you come visit me at odd hours, asking you for suggestions of what you would want to name a ship if you were allowed to be captain. Some of the responses we got were beautiful, some not so beautiful, and some were just downright strange. However, there was one name that stuck out to us through the entire process, one which we thought was absolutely fitting. This ship symbolises all four crews rising up from the ashes of hatred, anger, heartbreak, and insanity, taking the destruction of what we held dear and turning it into something beautiful with the potential to do so much. Even the ship itself seems to invite the name we have chosen in its physical form. My friends, from this day forward, this ship will be _The_ _Phoenix_!" His announcement was met with cheers and shouts of affirmation and approval.

Various crew members approached the four captains, sharing their opinions on the name.

"I think it's _perfekt_," Ludwig said with a nod.

"_Si! È bellissimo!_" Feliciana chirped.

"Like, I couldn't have thought of a better one myself," Feliks said.

"_Çok_ _güzel_!" Sadik exclaimed, clapping Arthur on the back.

"I guess it isn't total _câcat_," Mircea huffed, "though I think my suggestion would've been better."

"We already told you ten times, Mircea, we are never naming any ship, '_Cele Nebun Lucru Zbor_,'" Arthur said, faintly annoyed at the Romanian's antics.

"What even does that mean?" Francis said. "It's not a very beautiful name at all!"

"It means 'The Crazy Flying Thing!'" Mircea stated with a clownish grin.

Francis just shook his head and looked over at Iona, who was trying to stay as quiet and unnoticed as possible.

"He's perfect for you, Embra," the Frenchman whispered when Mircea was distracted.

"Don't even say such crazy things. I'm afraid that my anger at Mister Bălan supersedes any other emotion at this time," Iona hissed, earning a raised eyebrow from Francis.

"_Non_? Why are you so angry at him? He seems harmless enough, and the last time I checked, you never went anywhere without him, but okay. Whatever you say, _Ma_ _petite_ _Écossaise_."

"I'd prefer not to speak about it, but let's just say that he could've killed Arthur, and we'll leave it at that."

Francis chuckled and decided to leave Iona alone, knowing that it would not be in his best interest to anger her further.

At some point, Arthur dragged Lukas, Mircea, and Iona outside to both sides of the ship, two people on one side, two people on the other, to emblazon the newly minted name on to the carved metal.

"Well, now that that's taken care of, it's time for us to be off! Onwards to Russia!" Arthur yelled. The engines of the ship roared to life as the four magicians scrambled onboard, and soon enough, _The_ _Phoenix_ and her crew were airborne.

"How long will this voyage be?" Lukas asked as they walked to the bridge. In return for making them stay in Edinburgh an extra few days, Arthur had the honour of being the first captain on watch of the voyage, a job which meant he had to stay awake and alert the entire night.

"We're estimating it at about a week, possibly a little longer depending upon how long it takes us to refuel this thing. We're not entirely sure of her capabilities just yet," Arthur replied, removing his captain's hat and hanging up his jacket on a nearby hook as they exited the elevator.

"I would think that it would be shorter than that," Lukas said.

"You and me both, but considering we have three civilian women onboard this ship, we have to account for stopping in various cities along the way to allow them some freedom, plus, as many people are living on this thing, who knows how long our food supplies will last. We're estimating that we can get about halfway across Europe before we have to refuel, so that will take a day. Plus, considering we stole this ship from the Germans, we're having to choose a route that does not go through Germany, adding an extra day and a half. Quite honestly, I'm really not sure, Lukas. I just left the infirmary. Don't trust my logic right now."

Lukas rolled his eyes a little, but shrugged.

"Jack, set the ship to the southeast. We're heading towards Marseilles," Arthur barked. His cousin and navigator, Jack, nodded and punched in some numbers into a small screen in front of him.

"We're stopping in Marseilles? Really?" Lukas said incredulously.

"Francis wanted to. We're also stopping in Venice, Budapest, and possibly Warsaw before we get to St. Petersburg. I think it's ridiculous, but they outvoted me," Arthur huffed.

"Vakker," Lukas mumbled, taking a seat at one of the nearby tables and leaning back. He had a feeling that this was going to be one hell of a trip from beginning to end.

**_The_ _Phoenix_—March 15th, 1890—03:00**

**Gilbert Beilschmidt**

Gilbert paced around his captain's quarters, pausing only to look at the clock mounted on the wall. Its ticking had set the tempo for his steps as he'd spent hour after hour musing over the beginnings of a plan for what he should do after they succeeded in getting revenge on Ivan Braginsky.

"_Mein_ _Gott_," he swore, "how is it so late?"

When he found that his room could no longer contain him and his thoughts, he decided he would walk around the ship, hoping that maybe he could finalise this first phase of his plan and go to sleep.

He stepped out into the dim hallway, treading lightly so as to not wake anyone. Some crew members had their doors open, and he could hear various night noises.

"T'no, don't shoot anyone," Berwald mumbled in his sleep. Gilbert peered in and saw the Swede stretched out on the double bed, his arm around Tino, the ship's doctor and, Gilbert had only discovered that day, Berwald's boyfriend.

Heracles snored loudly in his room down the hall, and Gilbert could've sworn he heard a cat mewing.

Gilbert walked further down the hall, using the lights of France below them twinkling in the window as a guide. It was a moonless, cloudless night, and it made Gilbert feel like they were all alone in the sky, the lone survivors of some great catastrophe caused by the inky darkness.

"Beware the Ides of March," he mumbled with a smirk.

"Captain Beilschmidt, what're you doing up at this time of night?" a voice asked from down the hall. Daniel yawned and scratched his back while standing in his doorway.

"I couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?" Gilbert sniffed.

"I heard someone stomping down the hall," Daniel replied sleepily.

Gilbert scowled, partly cursing himself for his heavy footsteps, partly cursing Daniel for having good hearing.

"Well, if you must know, since the Awesome Me trusts you, Daniel, I've been trying to plan out how I'm going to steal this ship from the other three once we thrash Braginsky, and I think I've got some good ideas, because this is me we're talking about and I always have good ideas."

"Do tell, Captain."

"Well, this is what I've got right now," Gilbert started, "is that once we land in Berlin, I'll have one of my _Vater's_ old government friends wipe my record clean, and I'll turn everyone except the crew of _Der_ _Adler_ and anyone else who wishes to join me in for piracy and for the stealing of this ship. The authorities won't have any way to implicate me as a pirate captain, and I'll be the hero that saved Europe once we defeat Braginsky. Then, once I've got their undying love, I'll ask for the ship, claiming it as rightfully mine as a German citizen. Now, go on, go ahead and tell me that that isn't the most amazingly awesome plan you've ever heard."

"Um, Captain?" Daniel said, looking at Gilbert with one eyebrow cocked.

"_Ja_?"

"I think you're absolutely _őrült_," Daniel sighed.

"You think I'm crazy?" Gilbert said.

"Yes, Captain, I do, but in the best way possible," Daniel chuckled.

"So will you stand by me?"

"Of course. Now, I need to use the bathroom and you need to sleep. Goodnight, Captain."

"Goodnight, Daniel."

**_The_ _Phoenix_—March 15th, 1890—10:00**

**First Mate Iona Margaret Kirkland-Mackenzie**

It was a cold and cloudy day, but Iona found that she didn't mind. The chill cleared her mind and took her thoughts away from the pain in her side, and the clouds kept her from getting too distracted by the beauty of the French landscape. They were entering the area, and, as first mate, she had a lot to do in preparation.

"Mister Dahl, can you hoist the civilian colours please?" she asked nicely, nodding to the crimson flag sitting in Abel's lap.

"Yeah, just give me a moment," Abel replied, taking one last deep breath of pipe smoke and puffing out a noxious cloud of purple smoke.

Iona coughed, waving a hand in front of her face.

"That stuff is awful for you. You know that, right?" she wheezed.

"Yeah, I know. What's it to you?" Abel grumbled.

"Nevermind. Just hoist the colours. We're coming into Marseilles airspace and I'd rather we not be shot down when they see a pirate flag."

Abel nodded and snuffed his pipe.

"Thank you, Mister Dahl," Iona said before walking past him. She continued along the top deck of the ship, making sure that everything was in place for their stop in Marseilles.

Marseilles had once been a well known pirate haven for many years, but after the city's new mayor had taken over, security had become tighter, and they had started staging pirate executions nearly every day. Now, the city was crawling with bounty hunters looking for infamous pirate captains, the foremost of these hunters being Cecile d'Arcy, a cunning young woman from Monaco rumoured to be in the employ of Italian politician Lucius Vargas. The thought that Arthur, Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert were most likely at the top of d'Arcy's list made Iona shudder.

_Dear God, please let this go off without a hitch_, she prayed silently.

"Miss Mackenzie, is there any reason why you've frozen with one foot about to step on one of my guns?" a gruff voice next to her asked. Vash sat on a crate polishing various rifles.

"Sorry, didn't see it there, Vash," Iona replied sheepishly, moving her foot away from the weapon in question.

"_Danke_," the Swiss man sniffed.

"Are you all prepared for Marseilles, Vash?" Iona asked. "You know that we're all going to have to guard the captains, as well as the Vargas sisters."

"Hmph. How fun," Vash said with a grunt. "Once I'm finished cleaning this rifle, I will be. How long until we land?"

"A little under two hours."

"Perfect."

Iona soon found that she needed to sit down, cursing the fact that she still wasn't entirely recovered, and busied herself with summoning her wind and fire wheels and polishing them.

_So much to do, so little time. We land in a few hours, and I'm not sure that any of us are ready. Nevermind the fact that at some point, I will need to speak to Mircea, but ugh, I don't want to_, she thought. _Alistair, grant me peace, and stay with me._

**Marseilles Aerodrome—March 15th, 1890—12:00**

**Alexandru Mircea Bălan**

Mircea, for once, found himself dreading having to go to the market with Iona. Ever since her fight with Arthur, when Mircea, in an attempt to help her, had used one of the ancient spells, she'd been giving him the cold shoulder, choosing to spend time with her brother or Mathias, or even Lukas, rather than spending time with Mircea. Everyone had taken notice of it, yet here he was, descending the gangplank with Iona at his side, still being ignored.

"I'm pretty excited about seeing Marseilles, aren't you?" he asked sheepishly, hoping that maybe it would break the ice. Iona briefly looked over at him, her grey eyes distant and stormy, but gave no answer. They continued to walk in silence, and it made Mircea very nervous. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay, Iona, what the hell is up with you?" he huffed, blocking her path.

"It's nothing, Mircea," Iona sniffed, trying to move around him.

"If it's 'nothing,' then why are you treating me like a piece of crap?" Mircea asked, even though he sort of knew the answer. Iona stared at him angrily for a moment.

"You and I both know that it's wrong to use the ancient spells unless death is imminent otherwise. Those spells are lethal, and you used one on my brother. Do you expect me to be pleased?" she growled, narrowing her eyes.

"He stabbed you in the side with a sword!" Mircea retorted.

"It wasn't your fight, Mircea. He wasn't threatening you or Stefan, meaning there was no justifiable reason for you to use such a spell on him. You should just thank God that Arthur put up that shield. And next time, consult me before you try to kill my family."

"Iona, I was just trying to help. I thought you were going to die, okay?"

"There are ten million other spells you could've used, Mircea. You weren't 'just trying to help,' you were aiming for the kill. I could see it in your eyes and I heard the fear in Stefan's voice. You enjoyed watching Arthur writhe in pain for those few minutes. You were grinning and laughing while he screamed. Do you expect me to just stand down and let you get away with that? I thought you'd moved past that part of yourself," Iona snarled, finally pushing past Mircea and stomping onwards towards the center of the city.

"I know, Iona. I know. I slipped up. It's just—Look, all I knew was that you were in trouble and that I had to do something. You're my best friend, Iona. What was I supposed to do?" Mircea said defeatedly. He looked at her with sad red eyes.

"You're powerful and you're intelligent. I'm sure you could've thought of a different spell. You chose to use one of the ancient spells because you knew it would bring Arthur to his knees, and you enjoyed all of it. That's really what I'm angry about. You swore to me two years ago that you would rein in that part of yourself. Remember? No more dark spells, no more killing, all of it was supposed to be gone. I thought you weren't like that anymore, yet you stood there with a bloody smile on your face as though watching my brother burn from the inside-out was the greatest thing you'd ever seen," Iona said, her voice wavering as though she were about to cry. "How am I supposed to trust you, Mircea? Are you sure it's safe for you to be around Stefan if your darker side has resurfaced—" Tears welled up in her jade-coloured eyes, but Mircea knew that they weren't tears of sadness. He'd seen these tears before, and they were tears of fear and concern. "It scares me, okay? I'm scared of what you'll do next because I can't control you. You're stronger than I am, and it keeps me up at night worrying about what'll happen if you get involved with dark magic again." Iona sunk down onto a nearby bench, holding her head in her hands.

Mircea squatted down in front of her so that he was on eye level, and took her hands in his.

"You have no reason to worry. It was a momentary slip-up, one which will not happen anymore. Believe me when I say that I only did it to protect you because I didn't want to see you get killed, but if it upsets you that much, I won't do it again," he said quietly.

"You promise?" Iona said.

"_Da, draga mea, promit_," Mircea replied with a small smile.

"Will you stop calling me a dragon? It makes me feel like you're making a comment on my weight or something," Iona quipped, pulling one of her hands away from his and ruffling Mircea's strawberry blond hair.

"My apologies, 'Ona. It just fits you," Mircea laughed. He stood up and picked up the sack they'd been given to carry supplies in.

"Whatever you say, Mir. Anyways, we should get going. The Quartet told me that they want to be out of here by 18:00, lest someone recognise the ship and call a bounty hunter," Iona said, rising to her feet. Mircea nodded, and they started towards the center of town.

**Marseilles, France—March 15th, 1890—15:00**

**Cecile d'Arcy**

"_Mademoiselle d'Arcy_, there are rumours going about that four pirate captains have landed in Marseilles. They wouldn't happen to be of any interest to you, would they?" a well-dressed Luxembourger said casually.

"Depends upon who they are, Edward. Are they the ones Vargas is looking for? If not, consider yourself fired for wasting my time, because time is money," Cecile d'Arcy said, staring up at the young man over the tops of her glasses.

"You're in luck. I do believe that those are the men. Some friends of mine at the Aerodrome say that they're here until 18:00. Even better, and you can tell Vargas this little tid-bit of information, their next stop is Venice. I'd say we let them think they've escaped Marseilles without our notice, then, once they reach Venice, we lead a team of Vargas' men and capture the whole lot of them. How does that sound?" Edward replied smugly.

Cecile grinned and stood up.

"That sounds _merveilleux_. Be a good boy and run down to the train station and buy us two tickets to Venice. I'll send word on to Vargas."

* * *

**Hello there, dearies! Congrats for having gotten this far, and I hope you all will stay with En Ma Fin! However, there's some business to attend to. I am going on a short, two week posting hiatus because I must prepare to leave for a four month study abroad programme in Vienna, Austria. I will continue writing En Ma Fin during this time, but I won't be posting it due to time constraints. Worry not, though, because you will get chapters 19, 20, and 21 within the next month. While I'm in Vienna, I won't be posting as frequently as I have been this summer, but on the flipside of that, I'll make sure the chapters are 10x better to make it all worth it. I hope that this doesn't scare any of you away from continuing on with this story because I am determined not to forget En Ma Fin. Don't forget that even during this hiatus, you can still message me, and I will do my absolute best to get back to you as soon as I possibly can! **

_**Ta gey muckle**_

_**~La Reina Escocia**_


	19. Chapter 19: By the Pricking of My Thumbs

**_The_ _Phoenix_—March 15th, 1890—23:00**

**Stefan Zeltser-Bălan**

"Miss Feliciana, will you sing for me?" Stefan asked, tugging on Feliciana's skirt. The Italian girl smiled at him and patted the seat next to her, indicating for him to sit there. Stefan climbed up onto the bench, his eyes just barely able to see over the table.

"What do you want me to sing, _bambino_?" she said. Stefan looked up at her with sparkling eyes.

"_Nu_ _sunt_ _sigur_," he replied with a shrug. "What do you know?"

"I know lots of songs! _Ve~_ So does _sorella_, but she doesn't like to sing very much," Feliciana chirped.

"Y'know, kid, if Miss Vargas can't think of anything to sing for you, I could teach you a song in Hungarian," Daniel offered.

Stefan stared at him across the table for a moment. "Okay!"

"This one is called '_Repülj_, _Madár_, _Repülj_' which means 'Fly, Bird, Fly.'"

The room went silent.

"_Repülj madár repülj...Menaságra repülj...Édes galambomnak...Gyenge vállára ülj_!" Daniel began, his deep bass voice filling the kitchen. He continued, but Stefan stopped listening to the words, and instead focused on the tune. It was pretty and lilting, reminding him of a small sparrow flitting from tree to tree. Stefan noticed Miss Iona and his brother standing in the doorway, listening to the music, but also thought he saw another person on Miss Iona's other side, a tall man with a solid build. The illusion quickly vanished, and only Miss Iona and Brother were left smiling faintly, swaying a little.

Daniel finished the song, looking around at his companions. Most of the crew of _The_ _Phoenix_ was sitting in the kitchen, and, for the first time in a while, Daniel felt completely at home. Even the four captains were getting along, sitting amongst everyone else.

"That was, like, lovely Daniel, but now it's my turn!" Feliks exclaimed, jumping up out of his chair. He cleared his throat, but Toris quickly pulled him down.

"No, Fel, I don't think we want to hear your song right now. Perhaps somebody else?" the Lithuanian said sheepishly.

"I have a song for everybody, maybe," Tino said, smiling sweetly. Berwald looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Go ahead, Tino. We'd love to hear your song," Arthur said, taking a sip of his ale.

"_Kuulin äänen, kuulin, kuulin äänen kullaltani/Heläyksen, helä-heläyksen hertaltani/Luulin luona, luulin, luulin luona olleheni/Läsnä lämmitelle, läsnä lämmitelleheni._" The song was like a chant, mysterious and ancient sounding, but Tino's voice gave it energy and life. "_Kuulin äänen, kuulin, kuulin äänen kullaltani/Heläyksen, helä-heläyksen hertaltani/Luulin luona, luulin, luulin luona olleheni/Läsnä lämmitelle, läsnä lämmitelleheni._"

If Daniel's song had been 'pretty,' Tino's was beautiful, and everyone gathered in the kitchen stared at the Finnish man as he sang the last notes of the song.

"Wow, Tino, that was amazing," Amelia gasped. Tino turned brilliantly red.

"Well, thank you. I like that song a good bit," he said sheepishly.

The room went silent again as they all thought about various things.

"You know what I think we all need?" Miss Iona said, taking a step into the room. "I think we need to have ourselves a party or something, but not a party. More like a sharing of cultures. Each of us is from a different country, so undoubtedly we each have different folk stories and songs and dances. It would be something fun to liven up the mood before the final push to Russia."

They talked amongst themselves for a few minutes, debating her idea. Finally, Francis stood up with a smile.

"_Oui_, I think that would be perfect. When should we do it?" he said.

"How about after we leave Budapest. It's our last stop before St. Petersburg. It makes sense," Miss Iona suggested, turning to look at the others. Everybody nodded or made noises of affirmation.

"Perfect. We'll buy the supplies while we're stopped in Hungary, and one night into the trip, we'll have ourselves a party. The voyage between Budapest and St. Petersburg should last about three days, and we might be stopping in Warsaw, but I'm not sure yet. This sounds like a brilliant plan, Embra," Arthur said.

"Miss Feliciana, will you sing your song now?" Stefan whispered loudly.

"_Si_! I would love to!" she said.

"Everybody, be quiet! Miss Feliciana's gonna sing a song for us, then it's bedtime!" Stefan announced. Everybody turned and stared at Feliciana, who yelped and hid her face in Ludwig's back.

"Come on, Miss Feli! You said you would!" Stefan yelled, poking her. Feliciana stuck her head out.

"Go on, stupid sister. Just sing before the kid starts whining," Romana huffed.

"_Ve~_ Okay," Feliciana said, her smile returning. "_Buonanotte, buonanotte amore mio,/buonanotte tra il telefono e il cielo./Ti ringrazio per avermi stupito,/per avermi giurato che è vero./Il granturco nei campi è maturo/ed ho tanto bisogno di te,/la coperta è gelata, l'estate è finita./Buonanotte, questa notte è per te._" Stefan swayed to the happy waltz sound of the song, his eyes closed in enjoyment.

"Amelia, may I have this waltz?" Arthur said with a laugh. Amelia stuck out her hand dumbly, and Arthur spun her into the center of the kitchen.

"Save it for the party, you two!" Antonio cried.

"_Buonanotte, buonanotte fiorellino,/buonanotte fra le stelle e la stanza, per sognarti, devo averti vicino,/e vicino non è ancora abbastanza./Ora un raggio di sole si è fermato/proprio sopra il mio biglietto scaduto./Tra i tuoi fiocchi di neve, le tue foglie di tè./Buonanotte, questa notte è per te."_

Berwald lifted Tino up out of his seat, and the two of them joined Arthur and Amelia, much to the amusement of others.

"Let them dance, Antonio. You can never have enough lightheartedness!" Sadik called, waggling his eyebrows at Heracles.

"_Buonanotte, buonanotte monetina,/buonanotte tra il mare e la pioggia,/la tristezza passerą domattina/e l'anello resterą sulla spiaggia,/gli uccellini nel vento non si fanno mai male,/hanno ali più grandi di me/e dall'alba al tramonto sono soli nel sole./Buonanotte, questa notte è per te,_" Romana sang along with her sister.

"_Tu voz es hermosa, Roma! Deberías cantar más a menudo!_" Antonio cried, throwing his arms around Romana.

"Get off of me, jerk bastard!" Romana yelled, though she didn't struggle against the Spaniard very much.

"Don't swear around Stefan, Romana!" Mircea exclaimed, running over and covering Stefan's ears.

"Big Brother, don't do that!" Stefan whined, swatting Mircea's hands away. Miss Iona walked over and gently removed Mircea's hands from Stefan's ears.

"He's a kid on a pirate ship, Mir. He's heard worse," she chuckled.

"Yeah, Mircea. Listen to Miss Iona because one day, she's gonna be your wife!" Stefan giggled, leaping off of the bench and into Mircea's arms. The entire room erupted into laughter while Mircea turned red.

"Stefan, I think it's bedtime for you," Sadik said with an apologetic glance towards Mircea.

"But I don't wanna go to bed! Brother, can I stay up a little longer? Please?" Stefan cried, giving Mircea a well-practised puppy-dog stare. Mircea looked at him resolutely, but quickly broke.

"_Da_, Stefan. You may stay up for ten more minutes, but no more. We can't have you all cranky and bleary-eyed in Venice," the Romanian sighed. Stefan hugged his brother tightly and squealed with delight.

"Yay! Big Brother is the best!"

The group spent those ten extra minutes playing games with Stefan while the captains, Berwald, and Miss Iona sat watching.

"You know, despite all of our differences and hesitancies in combining our crews, I don't think I've seen any group this size behave more like _una_ _familia_," Antonio said with a lazy smile.

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Toni. What do you think, Gil?" Francis said.

The Prussian didn't respond.

"I c'rt'nly feel 't home," Berwald added to the surprise of his sitting companions. This sent Antonio, Francis, Arthur, and Miss Iona into even more laughter.

After a while, Stefan came plodding up to Miss Iona and climbed into her lap, curling up against the young Scotswoman.

"Are you ready for bed, Stefan?" she asked softly. Stefan nodded drowsily. Iona motioned for Mircea to come over and get the child, knowing that she was still in no condition to be carrying him all the way to the room the three of them now shared, or to any room, for that matter.

"Brother, can I sleep in Uncle Sadik's room since I'm gonna be helping him tomorrow?" Stefan whispered.

"Of course, but we should still wait for Miss Iona," Mircea said, kneeling so that he was on the same level as his brother. He stole a glance up at Iona.

"I'll be up in a little while. I just have to help Gilbert and Daniel get ready for the night watch," she said as Mircea took Stefan into his arms. "Don't wait up for me, Mir. You look like you're about to pass out, too."

"Yes ma'am. Don't stay out too late, or else I might wake up and think you've fallen overboard," Mircea teased as he walked away, Stefan cradled like a baby in his arms.

**First Mate Iona Margaret "Embra" Kirkland-Mackenzie**

Gilbert, Daniel, and Iona waited until everyone had left the kitchen before quickly snuffing all of the lamps and locking down the rest of the ship.

"Mathias, navigate us around those clouds up ahead. I'd rather we not go through a thunderstorm," Gilbert commanded as they entered the bridge.

"Aye, sir," Mathias said, bowing his head respectfully.

"Captain, is there anything else you need me to do tonight?" Iona asked, pressing a few buttons that controlled the ship's environmental settings.

"_Nein_. You're excused, Miss Mackenzie," Gilbert said curtly, not even bothering to look at Iona.

"Thank you, Captain Beilschmidt," the Scotswoman said gently, smiling at him.

_God Almighty, I wish there were something I could do to mend things with him. I don't want to spend the rest of this trip on the receiving end of his anger. I just want my friend back_, Iona thought sadly as she walked back to her room alone.

She opened the door quietly and stepped into the dimly lit room, closing the door behind her as though she were shutting out the worries and troubles that always seemed to follow her. She slid down the door and sat on the tiled floor, allowing the light breathing of her sleeping companion diffuse the stress that had knotted itself in her muscles and her heart. Here, she felt safe in the presence of her best friend. Here, with Mircea, it felt like home again.

_"Home is not a physical place, Iona, darling," _her mother had once told her_. "Home is wherever you hang your heart, so choose your home wisely."_

"God, I'm glad I cleared things with Mir," she whispered, placing a palm on her forehead and pushing some stray hairs from her face. She stood and began the process of dressing for bed, trying to be as silent as possible so as to not wake Mircea while she pulled on a nightshirt she'd stolen from Dylan's house the last time she'd stopped by Cardiff. She was successful in her preparations right up until she walked towards the bed and stepped on one of the small wooden blocks Mathias had given Stefan. Iona hissed in pain, tripping over the hem of her robe, and fell face-first onto Mircea with a loud, "Oof!"

Mircea's eyes shot open and he looked around in alarm.

"Wha—? 'Ona, is that you?" he mumbled, trying to sit up, though he was held down by Iona still lying on his chest.

"_Jesus, Maìri, 'n' Joseph! that hurt lik' a motherfucking nail juist stabbed me in th' foot, dammit. Ah tellt Stefan tae pick they hings up!_" Iona growled, rolling off of Mircea and onto his other side. She lay face down on the mattress. Mircea, now fully awake, looked at her blankly for a moment before laughing quietly. He hadn't really understood a single word of what Iona had just said due to her accent, but he couldn't help but laugh at how...cute it was.

_When the hell did I start thinking that way? Mă transform în ceva romantic prostie, nu-i așa?_ he thought.

"Are you okay there, Captain Clumsy?" he said with a grin, poking her in the side. She swatted his hand away.

"Not now, Mir. I'm wallowing in my pain," Iona mumbled, curling away from him. Mircea poked Iona further until he had encircled her with both arms, attacking her from all sides. Iona giggled like a child and squirmed.

"Stop! I can't breathe!" she gasped, trying to escape. Mircea pretended to collapse on top of her, trapping the redhead in his embrace.

"Okay, I stopped," he teased. Suddenly, he felt something wet run up his neck. "Did you just...lick me?"

Iona grinned up at him. "Perhaps I did," she taunted. Mircea flashed his fangs at her, bending his head low over her neck.

"Rule number one of Romanian sorcerers: we always have fangs, and we're not afraid to use them. Rule number two: Never lick a Romanian sorcerer for the aforementioned reason," he whispered, letting the tip of one fang touch Iona's skin. The Scotswoman continued to squirm and try to wriggle out of his arms. She managed to turn over onto her stomach and curled up in a ball, effectively leaving her sides vulnerable. Mircea held her tighter, nearly lifting her off the bed. "Your logic is awful, you know that, right?"

"Doesn't matter. You're not getting anywhere near my neck," she said, voice muffled by the mattress. Mircea smiled slyly and brushed aside the curtain of mahogany-coloured hair from the back of her neck.

"You sure about that, 'Ona?" he asked, running a finger down her spine. Iona's head shot back, nearly hitting Mircea in the mouth, and certainly leaving him with a mouthful of long red hair. Taking advantage of her freedom and Mircea's distraction, Iona sat up, grinning evilly. She turned and tackled him, knocking him off the bed. He grabbed her and suddenly, both were in a heap on the floor, laughing and making faces at each other.

"Didn't realise you had a sensitive spot on the back of your neck," Mircea teased, getting up and walking back to the bed before sitting down cross-legged on it. Iona stretched out across his lap, reminding Mircea of a cat he'd once seen in some rich old lady's house before they looted the place.

"I didn't realise it either," Iona said, smiling up at him with eyes that, in this light, looked more green than grey.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, frozen in thought.

"What're you thinking about?" Mircea finally said. Iona looked away.

"I wish we didn't have to go on this suicide mission, because that's what it is: suicide. We're just a rag-tag group of twenty-eight people going up against a world power. There's no way we're going to make it through this. Not all of us," she replied, all mirth and giggles gone from her face. She sat up and curled herself against his chest, and Mircea was all too aware of how fragile she seemed at that moment. Through the thin fabric of the nightshirt, he could see the scar from where Arthur's spell had hit right above her heart, and his hand covered the stitches in her side as he held her close. Looking down into her face, Mircea saw even more cuts and bruises, some a few weeks old, some a few days old.

"Nonsense. We've got four sorcerers onboard this ship and tons of capable fighters, plus, if it comes down to it, we have two Italian virgins to sacrifice to the Russians," Mircea said jokingly. Iona stared at him icily.

"I'm serious, Mircea. Haven't you thought about this at all? What about Stefan? Have you thought about what you're about to lead him into? He's just a _bairn_. Surely you're not going to allow him to go to St. Petersburg with us," she said, weaving one of the ties of his shirt between her fingers.

"No, I haven't really thought about it. I don't want to think about it. I'm not sure what I'd do if I lost him again, and the thought makes me feel so ill," Mircea sighed, immediately sobering up at the look in the Scotswoman's eyes. "I wish we didn't have to do it either, Io. I wish we could be rid of this pirate stuff for good. There's nothing I wouldn't give to be able to find a nice place to live somewhere with Stefan." _And_ _you_._._. He added silently. He hugged Iona tighter, savouring the smell of caramel and whiskey that always seemed to hang on her person, mixed with the scent of Argan oil in her hair. Somehow, it calmed the knot of anxiety growing in his stomach enough that he felt well enough to lie down, bringing Iona with him. They lay there for a moment in somber silence, both caught in their own worlds. Mircea's mind didn't even register Iona's weight on his chest or the feel of her warmth through her robe.

"Hold on one moment," Iona said, sitting back up suddenly. Mircea lifted his head a little and looked at her questioningly. The redhead shrugged off her robe and threw it into the closet before returning to lay her head on Mircea's chest, her wild hair splaying out around her like some magnificent crown of roses across the white of the Romanian's shirt. Mircea almost immediately wrapped his arms around her again.

"I just feel like something's going to go horribly wrong, and somebody's going to get hurt, and Mircea, it scares me to death. It's there, it's always there, in the back of my mind; this clawing, screaming fear that doesn't go away," Iona whimpered, hiding her face in his shoulder. "What if I lose you or Arthur?"

"Iona, that won't happen. I promise. I'm not leaving you, and I can assure you that Arthur's not leaving you either," Mircea soothed. Iona nodded softly.

"Do you think we should try to get some sleep? We're going to have to be on our guards tomorrow since Lucius Vargas has it out for Captain Carriedo," she said, turning to face him. Mircea yawned in agreement.

"_Da_. Plus, attacking you wore me out," he said, touching her nose lightly.

They climbed under the blankets and snuggled close as though the other's presence kept the spectre of the impending attack on Russia away.

Iona was asleep before Mircea'd even finished getting comfortable, and the Romanian again found himself gazing at her features, trying his best to memorise the serenity of her sleeping face. She looked so much younger and more innocent in the mists of sleep, her pale face framed by red curls. Even the claw marks seemed to disappear as though they were simply manifestations of all of the worry and hurt she carried with her during waking hours. Despite the peace her face showed, her body language still screamed anxiety and fear. She held onto the front of Mircea's shirt tightly, and her shoulders were tense.

Mircea finally willed the lights off, his eyes briefly glowing red before the room descended into darkness. He quickly drifted off to sleep.

_Iona wasn't quite sure where she was, or even when or who she was, for that matter. She stood before a tall, white building that reminded her of a stepped wedding cake. Large grey airships floated above her, each of them flying the flag of the Russian Federation, looming like monsters in the otherwise clear blue sky. A few hundred yards away stood a young man with white hair and scarlet red eyes wearing a regal captain's uniform. He looked familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Likewise, behind her, she saw another young man with shaggy strawberry-blond hair and crimson eyes wearing a beautiful red coat with red and white striped cuffs. Suddenly, she heard the click of a gun being cocked, and right as a bullet whizzed past her ear, the building and the surrounding airships exploded. The man with white hair was in their path._

_"Gilbert!" she yelled as she watched him being swallowed up by flames._

Iona woke up with a scream and tears running down her face. She broke free of Mircea's embrace and sat up, glancing at the bright red numbers on the clock: 02:30.

"_Ce_ _este_? _Ce_ _sa_ _întâmplat_? Are you okay?" Mircea said, sitting up and placing a supportive hand on her back.

"Gilbert, I saw Gilbert die. So many flames, the smell of things burning, and a gunshot...oh God—" Iona sobbed, shivering.

"Iona, it was just a dream. We're safe. There are no explosions, nobody's dead. It's okay," Mircea said, stroking her hair.

"It was awful, Mir. It all seemed so real."

"I know, but it was only a dream. I'm here, I'll protect you," Mircea whispered. Iona lay back down, and allowed Mircea to envelope her in his embrace again, this time drifting into a dreamless sleep.

_Arthur sat at a table with three men whom he felt like he knew, but his mind didn't seem to be working correctly at that moment. The room was well-lit, though the world outside the window was grey and gloomy. A large shadow fell across the table, the shadow of a tall man with what looked to be a scarf hanging from his neck._

_"I welcome you all to my domain, Да?" the shadow said. Arthur could hear the smile in its voice. One of the men stood up to say something, a man with white hair and red eyes._

_In the blink of an eye, the shadow raised an arm, and Arthur could make out the shape of a gun in its hand._

_"No!—" Arthur yelled just as the gun was fired and a crimson flower burst from the white-haired man's chest. "Oh God—"_

Arthur woke up in a cold sweat, still confused from his dream until he heard Amelia's soft breathing from beside him. He noticed that it was only 03:45, and that he still had a few hours more to sleep.

"It was only a bad dream, Artie-lad," he told himself, breathing deeply before throwing an arm across Amelia's waist and settling back to sleep.

_Mircea recognised the city below him as he leaned over the railing of The Phoenix. They were flying over his home, Bucharest. A little ways away, another ship kept pace with The Phoenix, and Mircea noticed that two people were standing on the prow, locked in combat. One man was tall with a large build, made even larger by a heavy beige coat. He had a long, pale scarf flying behind him like a tail. The other man, to Mircea's surprise, was Captain Beilschmidt, and he looked badly wounded._

_"Căpitanul! Over here! Hold on a second, I'll come help you," Mircea yelled, but no sound came out. He flailed his arms for a moment, trying to get their attention, but the ships were too far apart for either man to notice the Romanian._

_Suddenly, a small carrier vessel appeared alongside the other ship, and the tall man jumped in, leaving Gilbert dazed and confused, too weak to yell at the man as he would have normally. As the small vessel sped away, a thunderous noise cut through the air, and the other ship, along with Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt, was enveloped in fire._

_"No! Captain! Iona! Mathias! Daniel! Somebody, help! We have to save him!" Mircea screamed. "Captain!"_

Mircea's eyes shot open, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness as he stared up at the ceiling. He turned to checked the clock: it was 05:00. Iona was curled up in the crook of his arm, her hands splayed across his chest, showing off the silver Claddagh ring she wore on her right hand.

_What an odd dream_, he thought, brushing his hair back from his forehead and closing his eyes again. He knew there would be no getting back to sleep for him, but he had to try anyways. He resolved to tell someone about his dream later in the morning.

_Lukas wandered aimlessly through what seemed to be a palace or some other important governmental building. It was covered in giant Russian flags on both the outside and the inside._

_"Looks like some awful work of propaganda," he murmured to himself. He did not like it one bit. He heard voices coming from the next room, and decided to go check it out._

_Sitting on a grand throne was a man whose picture Lukas had seen in the newspapers a lot recently: General Ivan Braginsky, head of the Russian Federation and a highly decorated general. He towered over another man who knelt on the floor._

_"You trespass on my territory, I break you, нет? Silly little German man, your moments are numbered," Braginsky said. His face was childish but cruel, the way a small boy would look at an ant as he burnt it using a magnifying glass._

_Lukas stepped forward to get a better look at the other man. He instantly realised who it was: Gilbert Beilschmidt._

_"This is what happens to naughty little boys who get too big for their britches, as you Westerners would say," Braginsky taunted as he raised a gun. Lukas lunged and tried to run towards them, but it was too late, and Gilbert fell to the floor, a single bullet hole in his head._

"_Kristus_, _den_ _allmektige_!" Lukas yelled as he woke up with such force that he fell off the bed. His brother-in-law-to-be, Mathias, just mumbled from the other side of the room, unbothered by the noise.

"That was one hell of a wake up call," Lukas muttered, looking at his watch. It was time to get up anyways, so he started the process of showering and getting dressed.

**Venice, Italy—March 16th, 1890—10:00**

**Feliciana Vargas**

Feliciana felt impatient. Ludwig and _sorella_ and Captain Antonio were taking far too long to descend the gangplank, and she just wanted to go and see the sights of her childhood again. The ship was making this stop for the sole purpose of allowing the Vargas sisters to feel at home for a day before they made the treacherous journey into Russian-occupied lands, and by God, she wanted to enjoy it.

Finally, she couldn't wait any longer. She had to go and see her hometown again.

"I'll be back soon!" she chirped to no one in particular. With that, she skipped off into the crowds of people, humming cheerily.

Feliciana found her way to the Piazza San Marco, unbothered by the stares of people who recognised her.

"It's one of Lucius Vargas' granddaughters!"

"They've returned! They escaped from the pirates!"

Everywhere Feliciana went, the air buzzed with news of her and her sister's return, but the girl paid no mind to it.

She sat herself at a cafe and flagged down a waiter.

"_Signorina_ _Vargas_, what may I have the pleasure of serving you this fine day?" the young man asked with a smile. Feliciana seemed oblivious to the conniving edge to his voice.

"I'd like an _espresso_ and _biscotti_, _per_ _favore_," Feliciana replied. The waiter nodded and left. Ten minutes passed, and the waiter did not return. However, Ludwig, Antonio, and Romana found her.

"_Sorella_! _Dove_ _sei_ _stato_?" Romana cried, running up to her sister.

"_Ve~_ I've been here! You guys were taking too long," Feliciana said happily.

Just then, the waiter came back with Feliciana's order.

"Enjoy, _Signorina_ _Vargas_," he said in a sickly-sweet tone.

Feliciana hadn't taken more than two sips of her _espresso_ when a bunch of burly men approached the table and grabbed Ludwig and Antonio. Romana shrieked while Antonio tried to free himself. Ludwig simply stood there looking at Feliciana with sad eyes, occasionally straining slightly, but only halfheartedly. He seemed defeated before ever going into the metaphorical battle.

"What are you doing, bastardi? Unhand them this instant, or so help me—"

"_Mi_ _dispiace_, _signorina_, but we have orders from your grandfather," one of the men said.

"_Nonno_? Where is he?" Feliciana said with large amber eyes.

"Feli! Ludwig and Antonio are in danger! This is no time to get distracted," Romana scolded. She glanced at Antonio worriedly.

"We'll be okay, _mi_ _tomate_. You're home now," Antonio said with a sad smile. It took a few moments before it dawned on the sisters what he was saying.

"No! No, no, no, no, no! You are not leaving us here, _stronzo_-_bastardo_. We're part of your crew now, too," Romana said, lunging at Antonio. She was swatted away by the man holding the Spaniard.

"Get away from him, Lady Romana. He's a dangerous pirate," a female voice cooed. A short woman with a long brown braid and glasses stepped out from behind the men.

"W-who are you?" Feliciana squeaked, intimidated by the woman's stare.

"Cecile d'Arcy, bounty hunter extraordinaire, at your service, my dears," the woman said with a curtsey.

"What do you want with 'Tonio, _puttana_?" Romana demanded, stepping up and getting in d'Arcy's face.

"Your grandfather hired me to take down the men who kidnapped you two, along with some of their associates. I'm just doing my job," Cecile shrugged. She snapped her fingers and the men pushed Antonio and Ludwig towards the exit of the gated area.

"Please don't hurt them," Feliciana cried.

"I make no promises, dearies," Cecile said with a wink. "Now, Captain Carriedo, want to tell me where the rest of your filthy pirate friends are? We've already located your ship, but apparently, it's empty. Speak now, or else I'll make you speak."

"_Dios te salve María, llena eres de gracia, El Señor es contigo. Bendita tú eres entre las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de la muerte. Amén_," Antonio whispered. "I'll never betray my friends."

"Is that so? Maybe your compatriot here will tell us."

Ludwig looked at d'Arcy in horror. "_Nein_. I will stand by my captain and my friends."

"Very well then. Boys, throw them into the canal and make sure they don't come back up."

The thugs forced Ludwig and Antonio down onto their knees, holding both men in such a way that there was no fighting or struggling, only compliance.

"Wait!" a new voice called across the piazza. Arthur, Gilbert, and Francis came running towards the group, knocking over tourists and vendors alike.

"Oh my, looks like you boys got lucky. Your friends turned themselves in," d'Arcy sneered.

"_Qui_ _êtes_-_vous_?" Francis snapped, drawing his revolver and pointing it at the young woman.

"Oh, Francis, dear, don't you recognise me?" d'Arcy purred. Francis' mouth was agape, but he made no sound.

D'Arcy removed her glasses and untied her braid, and Francis' face contorted into a mask of absolute abject horror and terror.

"Cecile?" he breathed.

"There we go, Bonnefoy. After you left me, I decided to stop wallowing in my hatred and do something about it. You'll never guess who shares the number one spot on my list with these three?" d'Arcy said. She snapped her fingers, and immediately, more men came and grabbed the other three captains. Arthur's eyes briefly lit up emerald-green, but he was quickly jabbed at a pressure point, breaking his focus and blocking his flow of magic. Francis was too stunned to do anything more than point the revolver, and it was swiftly taken from him. Gilbert managed to punch one of the hired muscles in the face and knee another in the groin, but he too was tackled to the ground and pinned under the weight of three more thugs.

"What are you doing?" Romana yelled.

"I told you, you silly girl: my job."

Cecile led her men away from the Vargas sisters and disappeared into the backstreets of Venice.

"_Mio Dio_, what do we do?" Romana whimpered, grabbing her sister's hand.

"It'll be okay, Roma. We'll get them back, and we'll even get to see _Nonno_!" Feliciana chirped.

"How? We can't fight, we don't know where they are. Feli, we're useless. Get that through your head."

"We might be useless, but the rest of the crew isn't. I know where to find Mister Lukas, and he can contact the others," Feliciana said in a moment of seriousness. Romana looked up at her in awe.

"That's brilliant, Feli. Come on, let's go," she said. Feliciana dragged her to a large house near the Bridge of Sighs, and ducked inside. It was completely devoid of any furnishings and other such comforts, and their footsteps echoed on the marble floors.

**30 Minutes Later**

**Lukas Erickson**

"_C'è qualcuno in casa?_" a young Italian girl yelled. Lukas didn't speak Italian, but he could guess what she was saying.

"_Vi er oppe_. Who goes there?" he answered in a cold, dull voice.

"It's Feliciana and Romana. Is everyone up there?"

"Come up here. We're not going to leave this level," said Emil, just as cold and dull as his brother. The two girls hurried up the stairs, and were greeted by the expectant faces of most of the crew of _The_ _Phoenix_, minus Stefan, Sadik, Ludwig, and the four captains.

"Where are Carriedo and Beilschmidt the Younger?" Jack asked.

"Hell, where are all of the captains? They said they'd be back thirty minutes ago along with Mister Meathead," Mathias added.

Romana looked down at the floor and Feliciana stammered incoherently.

"Where are they, girls?" Iona echoed.

"They've been taken by a bounty hunter working for...working for—"

"For whom are they working?" Kiku said.

"The bounty hunter is working for our _Nonno_! He believes that Antonio kidnapped us, and that lady already had the other three on her list, and it's all my fault that they were caught," Feliciana wailed, falling into Iona's arms. Amelia stared at them in shock, her blue eyes wide and scared.

"We need to go save them," Romana said.

"Do you even know where they are?" Lukas said.

"That's why we came to you, Mister Lukas. We thought that maybe you could use your magic to find them," Feliciana sniffed. Lukas considered her words for a moment.

"_Ja_, okay. Does anyone have something that belongs to one of the captains? A lock of hair, a piece of jewellery, something like that?"

Everybody murmured amongst themselves.

"Like, _nie_, _nie_ _mam_," Feliks said.

"I don't," Heracles yawned, petting a cat that had perched on his lap.

"Wait—I might have something," Amelia offered. She pulled the high-necked collar of her blouse down to reveal a simple black choker necklace with a small jewel embedded in the centre.

"That belongs to...Arthur?" Iona said, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's one of his souvenirs from his adventures. He gave it to me last night," Amelia said, glowering at the Scotswoman.

"It'll do. I need complete silence for this. Mircea, Iona, I might need your help, much as I hate to say it," Lukas said. The other two sorcerers nodded.

Amelia removed the necklace and placed it in Lukas' outstretched hand.

"Both of you focus your energy on things that might have been, things that were lost before they could be found," Lukas commanded as Iona and Mircea flanked him and laid their hands on his shoulders.

The room went deadly silent, and for Lukas, the world blacked out.

It came back into focus, except it was a different world from the one he'd left. He stood in the backyard of his home in Norway, a light snow falling from the sky.

_"Pappa! Opp! Opp," a small boy with pale blond hair cried, stretching his arms upwards. Lukas bent down and picked the child up._

_"Where's your mother, Little One?" he asked the boy._

_"I'm here," a familiar woman with long blonde hair said. "I've been at San Giorgio Maggiore."_

_Lukas smiled at her, looking deep into her bright blue eyes._

_This is what could've been had I not joined Kirkland's crew. I would've married Anna Køhler, he thought._

_"Thank you, dear, for telling me," he said._

The scene faded and the real world came back into view. Iona was the next to come out of her trance, and the look on her face was sad and wistful. Finally, Mircea shuddered back into reality, and, quite honestly, Lukas thought, he looked relieved.

"They've been taken to the Island of San Giorgio Maggiore," Lukas announced, meeting the worried eyes all trained on him.

"How do we get there?" Daniel asked.

"The same way everyone gets around Venice: we take a boat," Romana answered.

"Alright. Does anyone here have a boat?" Mathias said.

"We do," Feliciana chirped. "Well, we know how to get one—"

"—but we'll need your magic again to get it," Romana supplied.

"What do you need?" Mircea said.

"Do you know how to leave hints in a person's mind? I once heard about a magician doing that, so maybe you could do it?" Feliciana said meekly.

"_Da_! I used to do that all the time on the streets in Bucharest—" Mircea started to exclaim, but froze when the name of his home city left his lips. The nightmare...He still hadn't told anyone about it.

"Well, you gonna do it, or not?" Romana huffed. Mircea shook his head clear.

"Yes. Who needs a bug in their ear?"

"..._Nonno_," both girls said at once. Mircea stared at them for a moment.

"So you want me to invade the mind of your..._bunic_? I'm not sure how I feel about planting a thought in some old guy's head," he said warily. Iona glared at him.

"If he won't, then I will," she said with a pointed look. "I'm not losing another brother when I've only just found him."

"No, no. I'll do it," Mircea sniffed. "You don't even have a handle on that spell yet, Io. It'd be dangerous."

Iona continued to glare but made no further argument. The entire room watched with bated breath as Mircea's eyes began to glow an eerie crimson.

"_Sorella_, _ho_ _paura_. He's all creepy," Feliciana whimpered. Romana shushed her.

Lukas had to admit that he was a little impressed. He'd sensed that the Romanian was powerful when they'd first...met, but now he was really beginning to see the depths of Mircea's abilities. However, along with those depths, a clear picture of the darkness within Mircea was also beginning to form, and it made Lukas nervous. He'd heard about the younger man's use of one of the ancient spells, and Miss Amelia had spared no details in describing how Mircea had grinned and laughed at Arthur's screams. Lukas wondered how long it would be until they had to rein the man in.

"There. I've 'suggested' to him that he needs to send his largest boat to the Grand Canal for us to pick up. Hopefully, he won't question his own logic," Mircea finally said.

"Perfect. Now, who will go with me to save the captains and Mister Beilschmidt?" Lukas said.

"Wait a second. Who made you leader?" Jack cried. "We're talking about saving my cousin."

"Oh, hush, Jonathan. He may be your cousin, but he's my brother," Iona scolded.

"And Artie's my boyfriend!" Amelia added.

"Yeah, and Francis is my cousin," Matthew said, though no one seemed to hear him.

The entire room now buzzed with angry voices in heated arguments over who would be the leader of the rescue mission.

Suddenly, a gunshot went off and everyone went silent. Vash stood in the corner, a pistol still raised into the air, pointed at the brilliant blue sky overhead.

"Will all of you just shut up?" he yelled. "Fighting amongst ourselves isn't going to save them, so just stop your arguing. I hate getting involved in anything like this, but I elect myself as the leader of this mission because dammit, we have a job to do."

The others stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded.

"I, as first mate of _The_ _Phoenix_, second Mister Zwingli's self-election," Iona finally said. One by one, everyone else added words of agreement.

"Hmph. How fun. Lukas, Iona, Mircea, and Amelia will go with me. Everybody else, stay here."

"Hey! What about us? It'll be ten times better if you bring the two of us!" Romana cried, gesturing to her sister. Vash considered this for a moment.

"Yes, fine, but the moment you get in my way, consider yourselves retired."

**Island of San Giorgio Maggiore, Italy—March 16th, 1890—12:15**

**Vash Zwingli**

"Remember everyone, we have to be quiet if we want this plan to work," Vash hissed.

"What's the signal again? I kinda forgot," Amelia laughed sheepishly. She scratched the back of her head with the tip of her revolver.

"Don't do that! Are you a damn fool?" Vash scolded.

"No, I know gun safety, Mister Hedgehog. Calm down, man. Now seriously, how will we know that it's safe?" Amelia said.

"Romana said that she would leave the door open for us. That's the signal. First, we have to let them get inside the house, so stop talking. I need to pay attention," Vash growled.

"Have we already told Mathias to have _The_ _Phoenix_ on hand so we can get outta here as soon as possible?" Mircea asked.

"Yes, I have the Dane on standby," Lukas replied.

"Oh, my girls! My precious baby granddaughters! I'm so happy that you're safe!" a loud voice rang out. The others turned their attention to the front door of the mansion where a tall, muscular Italian man was embracing the Vargas sisters, yelling happily in Italian.

"_Si_, _Nonno_, we're safe," Feliciana chirped, nuzzling her grandfather's shoulder.

"Those awful men didn't hurt you, did they? Have they done anything to you? Do I need to give orders to make their deaths as horrible and painful as can possibly be imagined?" Lucius Vargas said, looking from one granddaughter to the other.

"No, _Nonno_, they were all very honourable. Even Captain Carriedo, the dreaded pirate, was very kind to us," Romana said.

"Doesn't matter, dear. They're still pirates, and they will be executed by nightfall," Lucius said coldly.

"Oh God..." Amelia whispered. Iona placed a comforting hand on the American's shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Amelia, dear. We'll save them before that happens," Iona soothed with a glare in Lucius Vargas' direction.

They watched as the older man escorted his granddaughters into the house. Romana, true to her word, made sure to leave the door open.

"That's our cue. Iona, Mircea, and Lukas, you three know what to do?" Vash said, looking at his companions. The three sorcerers nodded.

"Alright. Amelia, you stay with me. Whichever one of you finds them first, contact the others and start trying to free them immediately. Good luck."

The group dispersed, sneaking in one at a time so as to not arouse suspicion.

Vash and Amelia crept silently down the basement hallway, checking all doors and coming up empty.

"Where d'ya suppose they could be?" Amelia said nervously.

"Obviously not here. Don't ask stupid questions," Vash replied. Amelia pouted but kept her mouth shut after that.

They heard voices coming from the floor above them, and it was obvious that Lucius Vargas was more than overjoyed to see his granddaughters again. Vash just hoped that they could keep the politician occupied long enough that the captains could be found and rescued.

_No sign of them on the second floor_, Iona's voice said in the back of Vash's mind.

_Nothing on the third, either,_ Mircea added, his voice echoing inside the Swiss man's subconscious.

They heard nothing from Lukas for a very long time, until finally, with a mental sigh of resignation, _I think I've found them. That bounty hunter's perfume is distinctive._

Vash nodded at Amelia, confirming that she'd also 'heard' Lukas' message, and they found their way to the fourth floor where they met back up with the others.

"So how do we go about this?" Mircea said.

"She's going to have her goons with her, plus whatever reinforcements Vargas has sent, so we'll need to be careful. The three magicians should hold off as many people as possible. Amelia and I will go for d'Arcy herself and set about freeing the captains and Ludwig. Once all threats have been incapacitated, we make a run for it and get on the ship immediately," Vash said authoritatively.

"Right-o!" Iona said with a grin.

She, Lukas, and Mircea approached the entrance to the room.

"_Ainsi, mes amis, comment voulez-vous mourir?_" Cecile d'Arcy purred, circling the bound captives like a shark circling its prey.

"Cecile, my dear, if this is about that month in Paris, leave these other four out of it," Francis said, his face and tone serious. D'Arcy threw her head back and laughed.

"Oh you poor dear, this isn't about just you. Four out of the five of you are wanted pirates. The fifth, while technically a 'privateer,' is still guilty of association with and giving aid to pirates. There's a nice sum of money on all of your heads, and by God, I want that money."

"Come on, _Bonita_, why don't we stop all of this talk of execution and piracy, and enjoy a nice cup of coffee together? That sounds good, _sí_?" Antonio said sheepishly.

"Quiet, fool. Since you all won't answer my question, I suppose that means you're allowing me to end your pathetic lives however I want. Boys, leave me and these five men alone for a bit. I have work to do," d'Arcy said, brandishing a knife.

As the men filed out of the room, the three sorcerers used all manner of spells to knock them out or otherwise subdue them.

"Stop right there, you stupid Frenchie!" Amelia yelled, charging into the room. She lunged for d'Arcy's knife, only to receive a swift kick to the solar plexus. In return, Amelia pulled out her revolver again, aimed at d'Arcy's flouncy pink hairbow, and shot, creating a perfectly round hole in one of the straight pieces.

"Next time, bitch, I'll aim for your heart," she growled.

D'Arcy came dangerously close to Amelia and managed to nick her cheek while also delivering a hard punch to the chest.

"Hey! That's my girlfriend, you bitch!" Arthur cried. Cecile gave a loud whistle, and suddenly, a large group of men flooded the room.

"Take care of these miscreants while I take care of their captains," the Monacan sneered. The goons engaged the rescue party immediately, but Amelia was undeterred. She pushed away her attackers and once more went for d'Arcy.

"You're mine, princess," the American spat, punching the brunette in the nose. Cecile clawed at Amelia, while Vash used the opportunity to free the five captives.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," he hissed, but all five stood their ground.

"Not without our friends," Antonio said, grabbing his battle axe from its spot in the corner of the room. The other captains and Ludwig followed his example, picking up their confiscated weapons from around the room.

"Let's do this," Gilbert growled.


End file.
